DBH: New Jericho Police Department
by Inksblots
Summary: A collection of short stories that describe life in Detroit following the revolution, specifically for Lieutenant Anderson and his android partner Connor as they work to solve violent crimes in their newly established precinct while Connor deals with his newfound deviancy and Hank conquers the ghosts of his past.
1. A Thin Line

"A Thin Line"

The city of Detroit had changed significantly over the past 3 months since the Android revolution. It was mid February and the "Android City," which had been dubbed "New Jericho" by many of its inhabitants, had undergone thousands of new laws and changes regarding humans and androids. As the country struggled to integrate new Android laws into the system, New Jericho was trying to build itself up as its own city to act as both a haven to deviated androids as well as humans. The population began to thin out a bit as humans slowly began moving back in and the unmarked, newly deviated androids began moving and spreading out to begin their new lives in other parts of the country. There was a bit of natural tension and uncertainty in the beginning, but many people began adapting and learning as they embraced their new Android neighbors. Employment had even began on a steady decline as the high concentration of androids in larger cities began to thin out.

One of the first areas that was set to be rebuilt was the Detroit police force. As the only human left in the city early on, Hank Anderson requested that the precinct be reestablished to ensure the safety of everyone in "New Jericho." Many of the precious officers and detectives of the DPD returned to their jobs when humans began moving back into the city. Including the unlikely return of Lieutenant Gavin Reed to the literal "Android City" which was much to everyone's surprise. The captain of the police force Jeffrey Fowler, gladly took his office back though the position had been offered to Lieutenant Anderson.

"Ah I'm too old for that desk job shit." He replied when the Jericho leader Markus had asked him about the position. "I like what I do and I'll stay on this force as a detective despite the stupid shit we go through."

Crime in Detroit had declined for a bit after the revolution, but as time went by and things in the city began to normalize, new cases were stacked on the desks of the detectives in the precinct. Hank was almost glad of it. It made things in his life feel a bit more normal than they had been, or at least as normal as it could feel since he met his new Android partner Connor, who was now officially employed at the precinct as a full time detective. His relationship with his partner had been albeit, a bit strained in the beginning. But the time spent together and cases solved had slowly changed their strange dynamic. No one had ever heard of an Android detective before Connor, but the duo was a symbol of progress in Detroit as it promised the possibility of harmony and partnership as humans and androids began to work alongside one another as free beings.

With the revolution of Detroit running the company Cyberlife into the ground, the deviant detective Connor had chosen to stay with his partner as he could not and had no reason to return to Cyberlife after hours.

Connor had found himself initially sitting around Hank's house awkwardly at night as his partner slept. He had no need to sleep and there were no repairs to be made or reports to be filed as he was accustomed to. Even over the past few months, he had helped Markus and the members of Jericho as they worked on plans and laws for the new city. But on nights his help was not needed, he was left in complete silence and darkness with only Hank's Saint Bernard Sumo to keep him company.

One night, he found himself sitting quietly on Hank's couch with his chin resting in his left hand as he flipped a small quarter with his right. Connor's L.E.D. blinked yellow before cycling blue for a moment as he sat in deep thought. Getting up from his corner of the living room, Sumo trotted up to Connor, letting out a small whine before placing his head on Connor's knee. Connor pocketed his coin and began petting the dog without taking much notice of him.

Suddenly, a small crash from outside startled the dog as he perked up and ran to the window, barking and howling at whatever was outside. Connor sat up slightly as the dog's howling broke his train of thought. Hank stumbled down the hallway in a stained t-shirt and his underwear, rubbing his eyes and face as he called his dog.

"Sumo! Calm down boy." As he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find Connor sitting oblivious on the couch.

"Good morning, Lieutenant." Connor greeted.

"Connor, what the fuck?" He asked approaching the Android. "What are you doing awake? It's nearly three in the morning."

"I don't sleep, Lieutenant." Connor replied, "My battery is built to last 173 years, so I don't require charging." Hank swatted his hand in the air as if batting away Connor's comments.

"Yeah yeah, I know." He snarled, "But do you really just sit around the house all damn night? It's...unsettling."

"Usually I have matters to attend to concerning Markus and Jericho or cases at the precinct, but…" Connor's L.E.D. flashed yellow for a moment. "...they don't exactly require my help right now. So I'm-"

"Sitting around in the dark?" Hank asked.

"Well...yes, technically." Connor answered with slight uncertainty.

"Well don't you have anything like a hobby or something, or at least pretend like you're sleeping? For my sake if anything else. It's creepy just having you up and wandering around at all hours of the night."

"I could go into my standby mode that is used during repairs. It isn't quite 'sleeping' as you would put it. But if it would make you more comfortable." Hank sighed and sat down on the couch next to Connor.

"I don't know," he admitted, "it's just...weird, I guess. Don't you get bored sitting around doing nothing all night?"

"I don't-..well, I didn't used to 'get bored' exactly. It's a bit of a discomfort at times as of late."

"Well just find something to do then. Beats sitting around this shithole all night."

"I don't have any cases to work on tonight Lieutenant. And Markus-"

"No no, not like work shit." Hank interrupted "Something to unwind with, to take your mind OFF work. Something for fun, I don't know."

"For...fun." Connor stammered blankly.

"What, there isn't anything you like to do for fun?" Hank asked.

"I've never exactly, needed to do something just for...fun.

"Yeah well, that's the thing about free will." Hank commented, "Not everything is about what you NEED to do." Hank got up from the couch and began fumbling through a shelf on the back wall. He came back and inserted an old model movie disk into a box under the television. He came back to the couch and called Sumo from his vigilant post by the window.

"Back to the Future?" Connor asked, "That seems...confusing."

"It's a classic." Hank answered, as Sumo made circles at his feet before laying down. "Came out the year I was born if that's saying anything. Now if you shut up and watch the movie you might actually enjoy yourself." Hank put his arms behind his head, stretching out on the couch. Connor sat back and watched the movie with Hank for a little while.

Connor looked over at Hank about halfway through to see that he'd fallen fast asleep. He stood up from the couch from a moment and walked to the hallway to what he believed was a closet to find a blanket for Hank.

The door creaked open slowly as Connor peered into what was actually a fully furnished bedroom. His L.E.D. cycled yellow for a moment before he stepped into the room. The yellow light of the hallway illuminated the dust that filled it. It was a light blue color with a small shelf on the wall which appeared to showcase a collection of little league trophies. A small bed clad in black, race car covered sheets sat in the corner with a small toy box at the foot of it. The floor appeared to be covered with chew toys and balls that appeared to be for a young dog. Nothing in this room seemed to have been disturbed for many years.

"I supposed this is his son's room.." Connor thought aloud to himself. In the corner opposite the bed stood a small desk that caught Connor's attention. It was covered with papers of colorful crayon drawings. Child's drawings. In one, a little boy was holding what appeared to be a small puppy in his arms. In another, the same boy was holding a trophy with a team of other children next to him, and one taller figure.

Connor looked through the drawings, his L.E.D. steadily cycling yellow, when the corner of a paper inside the desk drawer caught his attention. He opened the drawer slowly. The other drawing appeared to be a gift. It had a small, clear bag of rocks taped to it. The drawing showed the little boy and the tall figure from the previous drawing standing under a large bridge. The bottom of the paper read, "To Dad." It would seem the gift was never received.

Without Connor's knowledge, Sumo had gone out in search of Connor and had peaked his head through the half open door. He looked at the dog who whimpered and retreated backwards from the room. Connor, remembering Hank, quickly placed the drawing back in its drawer and made his way out of the room. He grabbed a blanket from Hank's bedroom and brought it to the sleeping detective.

He draped it over Hank's body before returning to his place on the couch. He sat with his L.E.D. still cycling yellow, disturbed with an unknown feeling at what he had seen. He looked over at Hank as his L.E.D. cycled back to blue for a moment.

"Goodnight, Hank." He commented before slipping back into deep thought.

* * *

Hank awoke to feeling of Sumo climbing up on his legs and licking his face happily.

"Agh, Sumo. Down!" Hank commanded. As Sumo jumped back down off the couch, Hank looked over to find Connor in the kitchen pouring a cup of coffee.

"Morning, Lieutenant." Connor greeted, bringing the coffee to the living room and setting it on the table in front of Hank. "It's 6:37 in the morning and we're required at the precinct by 7:30." He stated, "I received a report of an case waiting for us that you might be interested in."

"Oh yeah?" Hank asked, grabbing the coffee from the table. "The only thing I'm interested in is going back to bed," he groaned. "Not that investigating murder isn't up there." He sighed sarcastically. "How'd you like the movie?" He asked taking a sip of his coffee.

"I.." Connor faltered for a moment, having not actually paid any attention to Hank's movie. "It was..nice." He stammered awkwardly.

"Uh huh.." Hank responded smugly, doubting the tone in Connor's voice. "You don't HAVE to like it." He retorted, "or if you're gonna lie about it, at least try to make it convincing."

Connor waited patiently for Hank to finish his coffee. After he'd finished, he retreated to bathroom to shower and get ready for work. Having Connor as a roommate almost forced Hank's hand when it came to showing up on time for work.

Connor watched Hank close the door behind him before quickly approaching the room at the end of the hallway. Something about it was almost intriguing to Connor. His L.E.D. cycled yellow as the smell of dust filled the air. There was an eerie feeling about the room that Connor couldn't quite describe. It felt more like this was a piece of history than a child's bedroom. A piece of Hank's history.

Connor suddenly heard the bathroom door creak open to his surprise. He quickly stepped out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

"Forgot a damn towel…" Hank muttered to himself before looking up, startled to see Connor standing directly in front of him. "What...are you doing?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing Lieutenant." Connor chirped a bit too quickly. Hank gave Connor a suspicious look before walking back to his room.

"Ah whatever.." he groaned. "Fucking android…"

Connor's L.E.D. cycled yellow for a moment before returning to blue. He wasn't sure what spiked his curiosity, but he didn't doubt that Hank wouldn't be exactly happy about Connor's snooping around.

Returning to the couch, Connor sat back and waited for his partner before leaving for the precinct.

* * *

"This guy is...what?" Hank asked as he sat in Captain Fowler's office listening to the debriefing.

"He's removing L.E.D.'s from female androids before shooting them in the head at point-blank range.." Connor reiterated as he skimmed through the case file.

"Yeah I heard him the first time." Hank responded, looking over Connor's shoulder at the case report.

"The latest victim was discovered this morning in an alley." Fowler stated, "Found the same as the other three."

"Most deviants removed their L.E.D.'s around the time of deviancy, so it's unlikely the selection was random...whoever this suspect is must be trying to find androids with functioning L.E.D.'s as part of his victimology." Connor stated,

"Maybe he's trying to punish androids that he thinks aren't conforming completely to their deviancy." Hank suggested, "Removing an L.E.D. Is a big sign of independence for most androids."

"Maybe…" Connor muttered, "All of these models look about the same." Connor commented, "White hair and various different eye colors."

"That's not surprising," Hank responded, "guys like this usually have a type."

"All of them were found with white hair, however none of the androids had white hair when they were reported missing." Connor pointed out.

"So...what?" Hank asked, "The son of a bitch is dying their hair?"

"Or forcing them to access different hair color features. Many androids were programmed with customizable features that allowed their owners to change their appearance at will." Hank gave Connor a sideways glance.

"So...you can just change your hair color like that?" He asked, a bit off topic,

"Well...yes." Connor faltered. "But my features were put in place for undercover or covert missions. Not...customization."

"Huh.." Hank remarked, "So anyways..this guy is trying to make all these androids look the same before executing them?"

"Or recreating someone that hurt the suspect." Connor answered. "Possibly punishing these victims for something another human or android did to them." Hank watched as Connor's L.E.D. flashed red for a moment before returning to a steady blue pulse. "Unsubs like this usually have some sort of psychosis or software errors resulting from trauma that affect the way they see people. They believe that if it looks like a certain person that has left or died, than it must BE that same person." Connor looked up towards Fowler. "Do we know if the suspect is a human or deviant?"

"No fingerprints were found at the scene and all of the victims have been androids. My men suspect android but it doesn't rule out a human offender." Captain Fowler sat back in his chair and sighed. "I really hoped the revolution would stop all these deviant cases. I thought all they wanted was freedom."

"They do." Connor responded, "and they received it. But free will doesn't always mean good choices. In a field like ours I thought that would be evident." Fowler sat up in his chair.

"Yeah." Hank responded, "these androids are free to make their own choices, good or bad, like humans, and if it's the latter, well then, that's what we get paid for." He chuckled. "Only difference now is that they're gonna get judged and punished equally for the same crimes." Fowler turned back to Connor, his arms crossed over his chest.

"What about you, Connor?" He asked, "You're free now too, so what's keeping you here? Don't you want to explore other opportunities?"

"I.." Connor faltered for a moment, "I'm happy here." He said, "I was built for this job and I enjoy it. Nothing has ever given me a reason to leave."

"Is that the only reason?" Fowler pushed, "or is it something else keeping you here?"

"I.."

"What are you getting at Jeffrey?" Hank interrupted, ending the conversation, "You're paying him and he's doing the dirty work. End of story. Now where the hell is this crime scene, because I'm ready to put this sick son of a bitch away." Fowler sighed before laying down a piece of paper from a report on his desk.

"Here's the address." He stated, "Forensics will be cleaning up the scene soon so be quick." He reminded them.

"Thanks." Hanks said coldly snatching the paper before hurrying out the door. "Let's go, Connor."

"Coming Lieutenant." Connor called back. As he turned to walk out the door, Captain Fowler grabbed Connor's arm.

"Connor," He stated, "Come speak to me after this case is handled. I have something important to discuss with you." Connor's L.E.D. flashed yellow for a moment as he slowly pulled his arm away from Fowler's grasp.

"Have a nice day, Captain." He responded with uncertainty as he walked out of the office.

* * *

The car ride to the crime scene was unnaturally quiet as Connor sat, consumed with thought. Small flurries of snow hit the windshield as the two detectives drove. Hank had his metal tunes blaring at a slightly quieter pace than normal, but he was still concerned with Connor's lack of conversation.

"Something on your mind, kid?" Hank asked, turning down his car stereo. "You've hardly said a word since we left the precinct."

"This case…" Connor responded, looking down at the files. "It's not unlike some we've faced before, yet something about it is just…"

"Bothering you?" Hank asked.

"I suppose so." Connor admitted. "Though...I couldn't tell you why…" he trailed off.

"Well something happened during the debriefing, that I can tell you. Your uh…" Hank tapped on his own temple, "..L.E.D. went red for a moment there. Connor sighed putting his elbow against the window and resting his head in his hand.

"Relationships between humans and androids are...complicated." Connor stated, "rarely does it happen that an android or human actually hurts or kills the person they're truly angry with. Innocent people are punished because an android got someone laid off, or because some angry human hurt an abused android." Hank looked at Connor with some sense of understanding in his eyes. "But..they never really hurt the person responsible for their pain. Rather they just blame the whole species. And innocent people get hurt because of it."

"Connor that's what crime is, it's everything we work for. But you've never had this sort of revelation before."

"I've never felt this way before, to feel so...emotionally compromised over an Android I've never met. To be so...confused for her situation..it just doesn't seem right."

"That's just your empathy talking, Connor," Hank said smiling. "It can be a bitch in our line of work but it's what drives us to do our job better."

"There's just so much that android could have done with her life..but she was shut down so soon after having discovered that she could do anything." Connor found his mind wandering to the child's room he'd found the night before. "Having someone die...young...it.."

"It takes away everything they could have been. Any decision they could have made or any impact they could have had on the world." Hank started at the road with cold eyes, "takes away an entire life before it's even really started." Hank looked to Connor with a warm smile. "That's why I went into law enforcement. To stand up for those that never got the chance to live." He looked up quietly, "and protect those who still have that chance." Connor looked at Hank before looking back out the window.

"I didn't choose to be apart of this field necessarily.." He stated, looking up. "But I'm glad to be doing it." He smiled at Hank, and Hank returned the smile.

"This must be it.." Hank said grimly pulling his car over next to the alleyway blocked off with cybernetic police tape. He stepped out of the car and his partner followed suit.

"Morning, Hank." Detective Collins called out from behind the tape. "You're up early."

"Not like I have much of a choice." Hank responded nodding his head towards Connor. "This asshole refuses to be late, and I'm his ride." Normally Connor would have made some sort of remark, but he was already across the tape and immersed in the crime scene. A body was covered in a grey-green tarp to protect is from the incoming snowstorm. Conner lifted the tarp and stared the deviant in the face. His L.E.D. cycled yellow and flashed red for a moment before returning to a steady yellow thirium from the gunshot wound in her head was already faded and invisible to the naked eye. Connor scanned the area around her face to look for traces. The thirium that should have been streaked down her face from her wound was completely cleaned off and her eyes had been closed. There was no thirium staining the concrete below her. Connor placed the tarp back over her face before returning to Hank.

"She wasn't murdered here." Connor stated. "The alley is just a dump site."

"What makes you say that?" Hank asked approaching the covered the body.

"There's no patterns of blue blood splatters and no traces of it on the concrete. If she had bled out here then-"

"Then the blood should have pooled beneath her." Hank finished, leaning up against a building. Connor nodded.

"There's signs of remorse as well…" Connor stated, lifting the tarp from the android's face for Hank to see.

"Her eyes were closed." Hank said

"Correct, and the thirium was cleaned from her face before the body was dumped here. And look at how the body is positioned." Connor pulled the tarp back a little more to reveal her thighs and torso.

"Same as the others in the case file pictures." Hank stated. The android was laying on her back with her legs straight together and her hands resting on her abdomen. "There are some obvious signs of remorse when these bodies were dumped. It doesn't really follow with the whole 'violent punishment execution' M.O. You think this guys knew his victims?"

"I don't know.." Connor muttered, "The victimology is a little bit too specific for him to have known all these victims."

"What's the model number?" He asked. Connor ran a quick scan over the deviant's face.

"WR400." Connor stated, "A sex android who registered herself as 'Mia' following deviancy."

"And the others?" Hank asked. Connor shook his head checking the other files in the report

"Different makes, models, purposes and time of deviancy." Connor stated. "The others victims were built for gardening, housekeeping, and retail." Connor scanned the files for some sort of clue. "It just doesn't seem likely that this one suspect could have personally known all the victims."

"The violent execution method doesn't fit the care he's showing the bodies.." Hank responded. Connor knelt down to get a closer look at the android's face. It was so peaceful she almost looked to be in standby mode.

"I don't think he's recreating these androids to look like someone he hates and wants to punish.." Connor realized. "I think he's recreating a loved one."

"And putting a bullet in their heads when they don't conform to his fantasy…" Hank said, his arms crossed over his chest. "Sounds like typical psychosis after suffering grief and trauma of losing someone." Connor nodded,

"But the removal of the L.E.D's" Connor muttered. "That seems to be his signature...it would be much easier to find androids that don't have their L.E.D's if that's what he wants from them...But every victim's L.E.D was found at the dump site." he placed two fingers on the android's right temple. "They're all removed before death since the artificial skin has time to recede and then come back." Connor took the wrist of the android, prying back her fingers enough to find take the dull L.E.D.'s from her hands.

"He's not keeping them as trophies." Hank muttered, "so why remove them at all?"

"Or give them back after he's killed them..?" Connor examined the android's L.E.D. for a moment before calling forensics back to bag it as evidence.

"What's that under her fingernails?" Hank asked, stepping away from the side of the building he had been leaning against, "skin?"

"No.." Connor replied, lifting and scanning the girl's hand. "It's some kind of potting soil."

"You think this guy held them prisoner somewhere? A basement or cellar or something?"

"It seems probable." Connor responded, standing up and dusting off his hands. "There doesn't seem to be any signs of physical torture. So whatever he's keeping them for might be more of a personal reason.."

"So where do we start then?" Hank asked, "Check for reports of any missing androids?" Connor shook his head.

"It might help..but with so many androids leaving the city anyways, it can be hard to tell who's actually missing." Hank sighed.

"My job was a lot easier when it was just humans fucking up other humans." He looked down at the body as forensics started to bag it up. "People are predictable, but machines...that's a whole different monster."

"We should start by trying to figure out who the possible first victim was. Whatever android the suspect is trying to recreate."

"We don't know if this guy killed the android or if she left or was shutdown for some other reason." Hank mused, "We could be looking for an android that's still alive. All we can guess right now is that the girl had white hair if she hasn't already changed it."

"And no L.E.D…"

"So that narrows it down to pretty much any android in the city. If she's even in the city." Hank sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can already tell this one's gonna be rough."

* * *

Hank and Connor had split up to investigate the different pieces of evidence in the case file. Hank had drawn the short straw and was investigating the previous victims in the morgue to see what the technician's autopsy report had to say. Connor was left at his desk most of the day chasing some half-formed theories and leads. The only real clue he'd received was a possible holding place for the androids being held prisoner. Most of Detroit's population lived in apartments, so finding houses with dirt-floored cellars at least narrowed something down. Connor assumed that the subject would be hiding out in an abandoned or condemned building rather than risking keeping his victims in his own home.

Connor also attempted to discover where the possible abduction sites might have been. There wa only one confirmed abduction site which was for an AX700 model that had disappeared in the plaza while she was out with some friends. He had drawn up a small, incomplete map of abandoned buildings and houses within a 10 mile radius of the plaza and each one of the dump sites, while trying to find a crossover between them all.

Connor sighed. This was hardly anything to base any real theories on. And there was so much that he wasn't considering about the nature of the suspect. If he had a car, if he was taking more forensic countermeasures than expected. If this suspect was driving, the radius between abduction and dump sites could be even larger. He wasn't even sure if the offender was human or android. Connor put his head down on the desk as his L.E.D. blinked yellow as he processed the evidence. There were too many buildings that correlated with the radius of the dump sites for Connor to check on his own before this killer found his next victim.

Sitting up for a moment, Connor connected with the terminal on his desk, shifting through missing android reports. There wasn't enough information to narrow down most of the reports. Suddenly, one report caught his eye. Another model android that had been built as a public gardener. She had been reported missing two days ago from the same plaza as the AX700. Connor pulled up the full report. This android, who registered herself as Lindsey, had a seemingly similar story as he other android.

"Abducted from a group.." Connor muttered to himself. "He might have used some sort of ruse to lure one of them away without suspicion. Connor pulled up the eyewitness reports from two of the people who were with the missing android. Both were human.

 _-were out getting lunch during our break. She stopped and said that she had an errand to run and she walked towards one of the shops. Afterwards, we went looking for her but couldn't find her.._

Connor looked at the other report:

 _No, nobody looked out of place. She received a business card from some guy on the street about dangers of faulty thirium but that's it. She was-_

There was the possible ruse. Android specific, and it might have scared her enough to follow him if he offered to 'check her thirium' for her. Connor sat back for a moment. If he was able to get this android to follow him somewhere in the plaza, he might have access to an office or building in the plaza. Connor pulled up a map of the plaza until one building caught his attention. It was a small office building that had been marked for condemnation but not officially shut down or blocked off. Connor pulled up the plans for the older office building. He confirmed his suspicions as he looked at the built in basement in the lower levels of the building.

Connor stood from his desk and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. He picked up his phone to call Hank, but it went straight to voicemail. He must not have service in the morgue. He knew Hank wouldn't be happy, but if the suspect had an android captive now, he didn't have time to wait. Connor left a semi-detailed but quick message about what he had found and where he would be. He took the gun from his desk and holstered it before storming out of the office.

* * *

Connor pulled up the picture of the condemned building on the wall palm of his hand. It was a match. He grasped his arms, bracing himself against a cold wind that threatened to knock him off balance. A storm was in the forecast. Connor walked up to the front door. The building was in relatively good shape, good enough to pass as a functioning office, at least on the outside. He carefully pushed in the glass door. The electricity was completely cut off and the inside of the building looked like it had been ransacked. Connor scanned the ground. Traces of thirium remained from the day before. Connor pulled out his gun, putting his back to a wall. The suspect must have ambushed the android here before dragging her to the lower level. Connor scanned the floor again, carefully following the small trail of thirium to a set of stairs. He could barely hear a hushed voice muttering incoherently.

"You —remember! —- have to Madi!" Connor could only make out certain words from the panicked blubbering. Carefully, with his gun pointed barrel up, Connor snuck down the stairs.

"I'm sorry please!" A higher, louder voice begged, "I don't know! My name is Lindsey!"

"Shut up!" The other voice stammered tearfully, "you're l-lying! Just s-shut up!" Connor heard a gunshot echo from the room. Swiftly, Connor turned to face his assailant and aimed his handgun.

"Detroit Police!" He shouted, "Put down the gun!" Connor scanned the room quickly. In the corner was a terrified android with white hair, cowering with her hands thrown up to her face. Her L.E.D. was blinking red rapidly. The other was...as Connor processed his tearstained face, the name read Michael Hester. It was a human. Before Connor could even finish his scan, Michael aimed is gun at him and fired without hesitation.

* * *

Hank grumbled, his hands in his pockets as he walked out of the dank morgue and back up the the main floor of the precinct. The technician hadn't been able to tell him anything about the android that the two didn't already know. Hank wondered if his partner had picked apart anything useful from the random strings and leads he had been following.

To his surprise, Connor was nowhere to be found. It almost looked like he had packed up for the day and left if it hadn't been for the papers from the case file scattered over his desk. Connor had apparently been looking at reports of missing androids. Hank looked around before spotting Gavin, laying back with his feet on top of his desk.

"Hey, Reed!" He called, "You didn't see Connor leave did you? He's been working here all morning." Gavin looked up, smirking at Hank.

"You think I give a shit what that mechanical asshole does?" Gavin responded, "I don't watch every move your plastic pet makes." He turned back and put his hands behind his head. Hank rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone to call Connor. To his surprising, he already had a missed call and voicemail from his partner. He listened to the voicemail for a moment before putting his phone down and swearing under his breath.

"Dammit, Connor! Kid's gonna get himself killed." He grumbled, running out of the office.

* * *

Connor gasped as he collapsed onto the ground. The bullet went straight through the supports in his knee joints, shattering them as Connor's right leg gave out from under him. He sent out a distress call and asked for backup through his L.E.D. Michael grabbed his head with the gun in hand, swearing through his tears.

"F-fucking police? Oh shit...shit." Michael was pacing the room with his head in his hands, panicking and crying. "Just..just!" Connor was very slowly removing his own tie to use as a tourniquet to tie off his leg which was bleeding profusely.

"Michael," Connor called softly as Michael began beating his head with his fists, "you need to let the girl go. You're unstable and need to be taken to a hospital." Michael finally turned to look at Connor.

"You..you're an android." He stammered blankly, then gathering up his courage, he pointed the gun at his captive android's head, who began sobbing and shut her eyes tightly. "K-kick your gun over here a-and put your hands up." He shouted, his voice wavering.

"Okay! Okay!" Connor responded, raising his hands and kicking his gun, which he had dropped, over to Michael. He felt his own stress levels starting to rise. Michael scrambled to pick up the gun and put it in his back pocket, his gun still trailed on Lindsey. "Now…" Connor panted, "I've done what you asked. So-"

"S-shut up android!" He stammered, "Just stop talking!" Michael ran up to Connor and grabbed him by the shoulder, half-dragging him to the corner of the room as Connor stumbled, trying to follow his lead. Michael was much bigger and stronger than Connor and the pressure of his hand on Connor's shoulder threatened to dislocate it. Connor felt the tie around his leg coming loose. Michael pointed towards Lindsey. "Fix her!" Connor looked at Lindsey for a moment, still a bit shocked at what was happening.

" _Don't worry,"_ He ensured her, cybernetically, " _You're gonna be alright, help is on the way"_ He ran a scan over Lindsey's body to see if she had been damaged. "There's nothing wrong with her Michael." He stated, "I don't know what you want me to fix."

"No, No there is!" Michael insisted. He fished through his pockets and pulled out a dead L.E.D. "This!" He exclaimed, placing it in Connor's hand. "You need to put it back. This is the problem." Connor looked at the dull L.E.D., confused with what Michael meant.

"You...want me to replace her L.E.D.?" Connor asked.

"Yes! Of course!" He groaned as if it was obvious.

"But..why?"

"B-because! That's what made her leave!"

"Leave?" Connor asked. Michael lowered his gun from Connor's head for a moment.

"M-madi," He caught a sob in his throat.

"Your android?" Connor asked, but Michael wasn't listening to him.

"One day, she just started acting different..Before the android revolution. She wouldn't look at me or speak to me. She didn't want to do anything I would ask her to.." Michael wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. "S-she locked herself in the bathroom, and when she came out.." Michael pointed at Connor's open palm, "She had torn that out, and her hair...It used to be so white and beautiful.." Michael then glared at Lindsey, "But she CHANGED it. Then..she just walked out the door...Didn't even look at me.."

"Your android deviated, Michael." Connor responded, trying to buy himself some time while reinforcements arrived. He could feel himself losing more thirium by the second. "She didn't leave because she removed her L.E.D. She left because she realized that she wanted her own life..She wanted freedom, apart from her programming. And trying to make these other androids into her..It's only going to hurt more people."

"No!" Michael shouted, "I know what the other androids have done, but Madi was different! She wasn't just my android! We were in love!"

"You may have loved her Michael, but before deviancy, she was just a machine. She wasn't capable of loving you."

"No I know she loved me!" Michael exclaimed hysterically, "She told me! We…"

"She was designed to please you and follow your instructions. That isn't love, Michael." Michael had stopped listening to Connor again.

"But I saw her one day...Just...walking down the street. Her hair color had changed...And she replaced her L.E.D...But I knew it was her. A-and I kept it. I kept it so that I could give it back to her one day...A-and then she'd realize..and she would come back."

"It wasn't Madi," Connor insisted. His visual sensors began flashing warnings at him as he continued to lose blood, "It might have been the same model...But androids can't replace their L.E.D.'s."

"Y-you're wrong…"

"Michael, you know it wasn't her." Connor said, sadly. "If you truly believed that was your android, then you would have stopped after you killed the first girl…"

"N-no...I.." Connor watched as Michael continued to break down. He was beginning to see through his own delusion, and when he did, there's no telling how he would react. But it might just buy Connor enough time.

"You knew those other androids weren't her, and you know that this android you have now isn't either. And nothing is going to change that."

"I…" Michael stumbled backwards for a moment. "I just want her back...I...I need her."

"Alright, hands up asshole." Came Hank's voice from the stairwell. He stepped out with his gun trained on Michael. "We've got the building surrounded, so don't even think about running, or I will put a bullet in your leg so fucking quickly." Hank looked over at his partner in the corner giving him a concerned glance before looking back up at the offender. "Put the gun down. Now." Michael placed the gun on the floor, backing away from it slowly. Hank dropped his gun to his side as he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "Okay, prick. You're under arrest."

Suddenly, as Hank approached the assailant, Connor watched as Michael reached for his back pocket.

"Hank! Look out!" He cried, jumping onto Michael with his left leg and tackling him, wrestling for Connor's gun. Michael grabbed onto Connor's throat, rolling on top of him and pinning him as a loud gunshot went off.

"Shit! Connor!" Hank exclaimed, running towards him. He grabbed Michael's body and threw him off of Connor. Connor panted, sitting up as Michael's blood seeped through his shirt. Hank sighed a breath of relief. "Shit...you're alright."

"Not quite.." Connor muttered, staring at Michael's body. "The supports in my knee have been destroyed and I'm bleeding out. My systems are threatening shutdown." Hank offered Connor a hand, pulling him up on his feet and putting Connor's arm around his own neck to help support him. Connor stumbled a bit before gaining his balance and shifting his weight onto Hank. As they turned, the female android ran up to Connor and embraced him tightly, threatening to knock him off balance again.

"Thank you.." She whispered tearfully, "I..I thought he...I thought I was going to die…" Connor smiled at her slightly, doing his best to return the hug

"We'll have the boys take you to an Android Emergency Center." Hank said to the android, "Just to check you over and make sure everything's in working order. You should be able to go home soon." The android nodded at Hank and made her way up the stairs. "As for you," Hank looked at Connor, as he braced himself to tackle the stairs. "We're gonna have a long talk about not going in alone. That bastard nearly killed you!"

"He was going to kill that android." Connor replied, "I didn't have time to wait." Connor stumbled forward, nearly doubling over from the blood loss. Hank reacted quickly to prevent him from hitting the floor.

"Shit, kid…" He muttered, "Let's go get you some help."

* * *

Hank and Connor rode home carefully through the snowstorm. The technicians had given Connor a temporary brace to use as they ordered new compatible parts. It wasn't too weak but Connor would likely be stuck doing desk work for the foreseeable future until his leg could be replaced. Connor stared out the passenger side window quietly.

"How's that girl doing?" Hank asked, "Think she'll be able to go back to her old life after this?"

"She's traumatized," Connor said. "And it may take her some time to truly understand what's happened...But I think she'll be okay"

"Yeah?" Hank asked, "And what about you? You haven't quite been yourself today. Everything alright?"

"I'm not sure…" Connor replied, "I don't feel right about killing that human…" he said, "He didn't seem like a violent killer, he was just heartbroken and mentally ill…"

"Yeah..well there's a pretty thin line between love and obsession." Hank mused. "You saved that girl's life, Connor, and mine. And that bastard signed his own death warrant when he assaulted an officer." Hank looked out the window, "Being a detective, you end up having to take a lot of lives..but it's the ones you save that truly matter. That's the things you need to think about…not everyone can do this shit every day." Connor nodded slowly, turning back to look at the snow-covered roads. Suddenly, his phone vibrated. He looked down to see a message from Captain Fowler.

 _See me in my office first thing tomorrow morning._

"What's that?" Hank asked, looking over.

"Oh…" Connor muttered, pocketing his phone. "Nothing important."


	2. Benched

"Benched"

Connor sat in the living room, patiently waiting for Hank to get ready. As excepted, he was placed on desk duty for the time being. As a late model prototype, Connor had always found finding compatible replacement parts to be a hassle. But since Cyberlife has gone underground, Android Emergency Centers has been purchasing from multiple different parties. And that had proved itself to be quite complicated and would take longer than usual. Connor had been bracing himself for a slow day, but that wasn't his primary concern for the day. He fumbled his cellphone subconsciously as he swelled over Fowler's foreboding message.

 _See me in my office first thing tomorrow morning._

Fowler never particularly called people into the office to congratulate them or give someone a pat on the back for a job well done. He was thought of Fowler's conversation with him yesterday, his L.E.D. blinking yellow as he processed it. Fowler has been insistent on a question that Connor found bothering him as well. What WAS keeping him at the precinct? It wasn't really enjoyment or the self gratification of doing a good things. Those things were no doubt part of why he kept at the job, but they weren't enough to keep him there when he had an entire world of possibilities. In fact, it wasn't what keeping the job gave, but rather what leaving it would take.

"My purpose…" Connor said to himself under his breath in quiet realization.

"What's that?" Hank asked, drying his hair off with with a towel. Connor looked back at him.

"Hm? Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself." Connor put his hand against the armrest of the couch, trying to force himself on his feet. He stumbled for a moment as his knee gave out a little.

"Easy now!" Hank exclaimed, running to support Connor. "That brace is a piece of shit.." he muttered.

"It's not meant to support weight." Connor remarked,"It's there to keep my leg stable so I don't damage it further or anything else in the process." Hank grabbed Connor's crutch from the corner of the room and handed it to the android. "Thank you."

"You sure you don't want to just call in?" Hank asked, "I don't want you doing anything stupid and hurting yourself any more than you already have."

"I'm on desk duty," Connor lamented, leaning against the crutch. "There's not much I can do to hurt myself if I'm stuck at the station all day...or week." Connor grimaced, accepting his fate.

"Eh," Hank shrugged, "Consider yourself lucky. If you were human, you would have just benched yourself for a good couple of months. Let's just say you would have become more than familiar with your desk." He smirked. "Your leg will ready in no time." He reassured Connor, putting his hand on his partner's shoulder.

"I suppose…" Connor muttered, getting his bearings on the crutch before limping to the front door. "Are you ready to go, Lieutenant?" Hank sighed, shuffling to the door.

"I'm guessing that question was rhetorical? I don't have much of a choice."

"Correct." Connor replied, opening the door as a cool breeze ran through the house.

"Hey watch those steps!" Hank called, "They're probably covered in ice."

* * *

Connor limped his way into the station with Hank at his side, watching him carefully as if he expected him to collapse at any minute.

"You alright there?" Hank asked for about the 5th time that morning.

"Actually, no Lieutenant." Connor responded, much to Hank's surprise. "You may find it surprising to know that my leg is broken and has not shown any signs of progress since the last four times you've asked. You may need to approach this situation with a different plan." Hank scoffed at Connor.

"Oh, so you're a fucking wiseass now, huh?"

"I've only learned from the best." Connor replied.

Alright, I get the message. I'll stop my worrying. Next time I'll leave you with the android killer, how's that sound?" Connor watched as Gavin made his way towards them.

"Good morning, Detective Reed." Connor greeted. Gavin stopped in his tracks, looking Connor up and down with a pretentious sneer on his face.

"Damn, Hank." He laughed, "What did you do to your fucking toy?" Gavin looked at Connor with his arms crossed. "Did he play too rough with you last night, plastic?" He asked with a demeaning tone in his voice. Hank stepped up, putting himself between Gavin and Connor.

"Do you ever know when to shut the fuck up?" He asked, glaring at Gavin. "You know damn well what happened, you just need an excuse to be a prick." Gavin turned back to Connor.

"Yeah I heard." He scoffed. "Our friend the plastic hero here thought it could run in and save the damn day. If you haven't figured it out by now, android, police work is a little more complicated than your artificial brain can handle." Gavin stepped past Hank and shoved Connor, nearly knocking him into the floor as he grabbed onto a desk beside him to try and regain his balance.

"Hey!" Hank yelled, gritting his teeth and taking Gavin by the collar of his jacket. "You put your hands on him again and you and I are gonna have a fucking problem." He hissed through his teeth. "I've had a gun to your head before and I don't have a single fucking problem putting it back." Gavin shoved Hank off of him but refused to back away from his face.

"What, you think I'm afraid of an alcoholic old shit just because you're waving that gun around?" Gavin challenged, getting up in Hank's face even more. "I could put you on the fucking ground right now, but I don't want you breaking a hip."

"What's your fucking problem, Reed?" Hank growled, "What drug your sorry ass back to Detroit in the first place? It's the android capital of the fucking world. Did you just get tired of not having anything to BITCH about anymore?"

"What about you, Anderson?" Gavin taunted, "What's got you so attached to your little machine over there, huh? Is it because it's the only thing that isn't completely repulsed by you?" Gavin lowered his voice, "Or maybe you like to pretend it's your replacement son, huh is that it? Since Cole-"

"You son of a bitch!" Hank was infuriated, grabbing Gavin by the neck and reeling back his arm, ready to knock him out.

"Lieutenant, stop!" Connor cried,

"Hank! Gavin!" The sound of Captain Fowler's voice stopped both detectives in their tracks. "You gentlemen damn well better get a hold of yourselves and act like fucking adults or so help me I will transfer one of you to another precinct! You understand?" Hank looked at Fowler for a moment before loosening his grip on Gavin's neck.

"You ever talk about my son again," Hank growled, "and I'll put a fucking bullet between your eyes, you got it? And that's a fucking promise." Swatting Hank away, Gavin stormed out of the precinct.

"You're fucking pathetic, you know?" He hissed at Hank, pushing past Connor in the process. Connor watched Gavin leave before turning back to Hank, feeling a sense of worry falling over him.

"Hank.." Connor started, seeing Hank's head bowed low.

"No." He hissed, "Just..don't." Hank made his way slowly to his desk. Connor's L.E.D. blinked yellow, turning red for half a second before returning to a steady blue cycle.

"Connor," Fowler called, slightly softer than a moment ago. Connor looked up at him. "In my office." Connor inhaled sharply before making his way to the office. Fowler helped him up the stairs but Connor never took his eyes off Hank. Hank didn't even bother to look up when his partner's name was called.

As Connor stepped into the office, he felt a small twinge of anxiety building in his stomach.

"Good morning, Captain." He greeted, his voice low and quiet.

"Take a seat, Connor." Fowler responded. Connor did as he was told, leaning his crutch against Fowler's desk. "I'm sorry to call you out like this." He admitted, "subconsciously organizing a stack of papers as he spoke, but something's come up from the higher ups in my department, and it involves you."

"What's the issue, Captain?" Connor asked. Fowler sighed, putting his hands flat down on his desk. "Listen, Connor, you..you're quite frankly the best detective this precinct has had in a long time, if ever."

"Thank you, Captain." He responded. "I was built for that purpose."

"Yeah.." he muttered skeptically. "But, Connor, despite your deviancy, you've made the choice to stay here with the Detroit Police Department, or- the uh, New Jericho Police Department I've heard some androids call it." He stammered a bit, "but my bosses, they've seen your work and what you're capable of as a detective, and they want to use you on some..well, special assignments."

"What sort of assignments?" Connor asked curiously.

"Some covert operations out of the city, maybe even long term undercover." He responded, "it's not my idea, believe me, but the higher ups like you. You're, quick, durable, sharp-witted, and easy to repair."

"You mean.." Connor started, "That they want to use me because I'm a machine." He realized slowly as Fowler sat up.

"Being artificial does give you some...advantages to our human detectives." Fowler said slowly to avoid offending the android. "But you're Cyberlife's most advanced model ever released. You must understand how that makes you more than qualified for this job.

"I'm aware, Captain." Connor responded grimly.

"So...that's why I asked you yesterday about why you were staying at the precinct. I need to know that you're here for the job and not because of.."

"Because of...what Captain?" Fowler let his gaze shift to Hank's desk.

"Well, because of your partner." Connor looked back at Hank. "I know you and Hank have been through a lot together..but with his age and his drinking habit, he won't be able to keep up this job forever. If Hank becomes compromised and can't keep working like this, well, I need to know that you'll still be there to pick up the slack." Connor felt conflicted.

"I..I can assure you Captain…" he trailed off. "I would need some time to consider." He decided.

"Understood," Fowler responded, "I don't need a decision now, but if you could tell me by the end of the week, that would be preferred."

"I understand, Captain." Connor gestures towards the door. "May I go now?"

"Yeah, yeah." Fowler answered, swatting his hand at Connor, "get back to work."

"Of course." He answered, "Have a nice day, Captain Fowler."

Connor made his way down the steps, stumbling as he tried to find his center of balance. The things Fowler had said weighed heavily on his mind. He knew he wasn't JUST working because Hank was there, but...the idea of working without him. It felt..empty and dull. Yet, without this job..what was he? Just another rouge android without a use or purpose. Would his life even mean anything?

"Hank…" Connor called as he approached his partner's desk, doing his best to sit down on his own.

"The fuck do you want..?" Hank grumbled, sitting at his desk with his arms folded over his chest. Connor wanted to share his news from the Captain with his partner, try figure out what he thought of it. But Hank seemed to be closing himself completely off to the android. Connor's L.E.D. shifted from blue to yellow. Hank looked up at him for a moment. "What?" He asked looking at the light pulsing in his temple. "If you got something to say about what happened with Gavin then spit it out already!"

"I..Captain Fowler, he-"

"Listen, if all you have to talk about is work, then I frankly don't give a shit." Hank turned back as to his work, shutting Connor down completely. Connor looked back at his down desk, his L.E.D. blinking yellow very quickly. Connor watched as Chris approached Hank.

"Hey," he said, gesturing towards the door. "We got a case. Fowler has asked me to go with you to the crime scene.

"Yeah, whatever.." Hank grumbled, standing up and throwing his jacket over his shoulder, walking towards the door, past Chris.

"Sorry, Connor." Chris mumbled, following Hank out the door. Connor sat back, watching his partner leave. Gavin's words seem to have left Hank in a state of steaming anger, and most of that anger seemed to be pushed onto Connor. He wondered if these past few months he really had been an intrusion in Hank's life. He never meant to try and replace Hank's son. He never even meant to become such a large part of Hank's life. He looked back towards Fowler's office, considering his offer at an out-of-city position. Perhaps that's what Hank wanted, some space from the android.

Connor turned back to try and focus on some of his desk work.

* * *

As Connor sat working at his desk, realized the haunting silence that filled the precinct. The station was completely empty save Fowler sitting in his office. Suddenly, as he was looking around, Connor felt something strike his head, knocking him from his chair as someone drag him out of sight of the Captain's office.

"Shit!" Connor exclaimed, turning to fight back. The assailant grabbed Connor by the tie, resting his foot on Connor's damaged knee before placing a gun to his forehead. Connor quit struggling his visual systems worked to adjust after the blow to his head. He looked up to find a familiar face threatening to kill him. "Gavin! What the hell?" He swore, still startled from the attack.

"Listen here, asshole." Gavin whispered, putting pressure on Connor's knee. He could hear the already broken supports beginning to crack more. "I know you've got your geriatric partner protecting your ass half the time, but I haven't forgotten what happened in the evidence locker."

"If my memory has not been corrupted," Connor started, "I believe you're referring to having your ass kicked. Am I correct?" Gavin growled, getting further in Connor's face.

"You wanna know why I came back to Detroit?" Gavin reeled back before punching Connor in the face. "I didn't want to leave knowing you still needed to have your ASS handed to you." He yelled a little louder, hitting Connor again. Connor tried to protect himself, grabbing Gavin's arm as he tried to pull him off, but his position on Connor's leg kept him pinned. Connor felt a small amount of blue blood dripping from his nose.

Connor was able to get one good hit in with his uninjured leg, kicking Gavin in the stomach, knocking him off balance and forcing him to let go. Connor fell back, scrambling to sit himself up. Gavin had fallen back and was holding onto his stomach with one arm. He stood to his feet and kicked Connor in the direct center of his chest. A warning flashed over his visual sensors as Connor grasped his thirium regulator, his L.E.D. rapidly blinking red.

"Don't try to fuck with me android." Gavin growled. "If I ever see you outside this office, you're good as dead." He walked off towards the break room as if nothing had happened. Connor remained sprawled out on the floor as his thirium regulator tried desperately to calibrate itself. Gavin had knocked the biocomponent offline, causing Connor's system to go into a sort of stasis. He laid on the floor, his chest heaving as he tried to focus all his energy on stabilizing his biocomponent. He felt his systems began to slowly shut down as a sudden panic seized in his chest. He was going to die.

"C-captain!" he shouted, his voice weak and strained. "C-capitan help!" Connor sat back feeling a complete sense of dread falling over him. There was nothing more he could do to save himself. He just had to wait. He tried to diagnose himself but his diagnostics system was completely powered down.

"What the hell?! Connor!" Connor tried to identify the voice. Hank? No..this voice was deeper than Hank's. It was the captain's. Captain Fowler knelt down as he saw Connor grasping his chest and tore open his shirt. His white plastimetal frame was completely exposed. "Shit, hold on Connor." He didn't know much about androids but Fowler knew that Connor's 'heart' should have been glowing. In a quick, and somewhat reckless move, Fowler took both his hands together in a fist, and brought it down in the center of Connor's chest. Connor's back arched upwards as the biocomponent blinked back online. Connor lay still for a moment, allowing the thirium to pump back through his body.

"Captain.." Connor's voice was still hoarse and weakened, "how…how did you know that would work?"

"I didn't." Fowler grimaced. "But I wasn't just gonna sit back and watch you die. What the hell happened to you?" Fowler asked, taking note of the blood that was still dripping from Connor's nose.

"I'm alright…" he sat up slowly, testing his movement and wiping the thirium from his nose. As Gavin walked past Connor's desk, he froze at the sight of Fowler standing over him.

"Ah, shit!" He cursed, believing Connor to have ratted him out. Fowler turned to Gavin, realizing what had happened.

"Goddamn it, Gavin." He cursed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "H.R. is going to have a fucking meltdown. You nearly killed him!"

"It's not a person." Gavin defended himself. "It's a machine. And a defective one at that. You can't kill a machine."

"Connor is a much a member of this team as you are except he has TWICE your intelligence. I'd advise you to get out of my sight before I hand your ass over to MY superiors. I'm already gonna have to file a report on this when I take Connor to a technician." Gavin scoffed and walked off.

"I'm alright Captain." Connor answered, his eyes locked on Gavin, "My injuries are minor and I'm not in any need of a technician."

"Bullshit, Connor your damn heart just stopped." He offered Connor his arm to help him stand and he led him to his desk to grab his crutch.

"Nothing was permanently damaged." He insured him, "And my heart rhythm is perfectly normal for an Android."

"Well I'm at least going to call Hank. I'm letting you go for the rest of the day. You won't be much good stuck at your desk all day anyways."

"Wait! Don't do that!" Connor yelled a bit too loudly. "You don't need to call Hank." He lowered his voice a bit more. Knowing this had happened would probably infuriate Hank even more.

"You don't want me to call Hank? Why?"

"Well… If Hank finds out," he prepared a small lie in his head, "I think he might actually shoot Gavin." That wasn't COMPLETELY untrue. If Hank found out Gavin had stopped Connor's heart, he probably would kill him."

Fowler sighed, knowing the truth in Connor's words.

"Well if you won't let Hank know, will you at least promise me you'll see someone about your heart? Just to check up and make sure nothing was damaged? I don't want to just send you home without the all clear, especially if Hank doesn't know what's happened."

Connor sighed heavily.

"I suppose I could check and see if my biocomponent has come in. Yes, I can do that Captain."

"Thank you, Connor. I don't want you to get hurt in this job just because you're an Android and people think you life is worth less. I especially don't want you getting hurt because of your own coworkers. I know android laws are still a bit shaky right now, and the humans are just as confused as you are." Fowler put a hand on Connor's shoulder. "We've made a lot of mistakes in the past few years, but I promise you, we're doing our best."

"I understand." Connor nodded, "The desire for freedom is the most basic human instinct, yet it seems that it's the hardest concept for them to grasp when considering others around them."

"I can't say I disagree with you there." Fowler smiled at Connor. Connor gave a weak smile in return. He patted the android lightly on the back. "Now go home son." He said, "get some rest, or whatever it is you do." Connor nodded, gathering his things from his desk and walking out of the precinct.

* * *

To Connor's surprise, his biocomponent had come in much earlier than expected, and his new leg was reattached without much trouble. It took a little bit of getting used to, but Connor was happy to test it out and break it in. Thankfully, Gavin's assault hadn't damaged the joint.

The technicians had found a slight irregularity in Connor's heartbeat, but that was quickly repaired after a quick recalibration.

After changing into some more comfortable clothing, Connor had spent the majority of his day with Sumo, giving the Saint Bernard some much needed attention. With both of his owners being gone most of the day, Connor imagined the dog must be lonely most of the time.

As the time grew closer to 10:30, Connor became more and more concerned over the whereabouts of Hank. Usually the two of them were home by 7:30, sometimes 8:30 depending on the day. But this was far too late for Hank. Connor found himself messing with his quarter as he tried to calm himself.

Suddenly, the front door opened and Hank cane stumbling in. Connor ran to the Lieutenant, fearing he might have been injured. He placed his arm under Hank's chest and kept his other hand on his shoulder, as he led his friend to the couch.

"Hank? Are you alright?" He asked, failing to hide the concern in his voice.

"Ahh, I'm fine." Hank slurred, swatting Connor away with his hand. "The fuck do you care?" Connor scanned Hank to look for any irregularities in his system. His mouth and shirt was covered in whiskey.

"Hank, have you been drinking?" Connor asked, already knowing the answer.

"Eh I don't know what the fuck you're on about." Hank was looking up at the ceiling now, his eyes glazed over. Hank always had the occasional drink now and then, but it had been a good few months since Hank had drank this much.

"If I can recall, you haven't gotten drunk in nearly 4 months, since our interaction on the bridge." Connor felt bringing up the gun may not be the best decision at the time. "You didn't drive yourself home intoxicated, did you?" Connor asked, as he eyed the somewhat sideways parking job in the driveway.

"Hey! Lay off me why dontcha?" Hank yelled. "You're not my mom. You're nothing but a fuckin' machine." He grumbled under his breath. Connor felt his L.E.D. shift to red for a moment.

"Come with me, Lieutenant." Connor said coldly,taking Hank's arm and supporting his back. "Let's get you to bed." Hank struggled initially at Connor's attempts to help, but slowly became too tired to fight it. As Connor laid Hank down, he put a blanket over him, as Hank had fallen asleep almost as soon as he hit the bed. Connor left the room and closed the door.

He sighed quietly, closing his eyes. Hank was obviously very angry and disturbed, seemingly at Connor. He wasn't quite sure how to fix it or where to even start.

Connor made his way down the hall and into the living room laying himself on the couch. He closed his eyes, trying to block out all the incoming thoughts that troubled him about his partner. Maybe Connor leaving the city might help, perhaps give Hank the space he needed.

Connor laid back and sent himself into stasis mode for the night.


	3. Trust

"Trust"

Hank awoke from his sleep with a start, sitting up sharply and finding himself covered in a cold sweat. He immediately regretted that motion as a sharp pain in his temples forced him to close his eyes. Hank grabbed his head in response, laying back in bed with a groan. He hadn't had to deal with a hangover this severe in a long time. He looked back at the clock on his nightstand. It read 9:26.

He couldn't really recall most of last night. He and Chris had gone to the scene of a brutal murder of who appeared to be a high class businessman. Hank wasn't exactly focused on the case, still steaming from his prevented fight with Gavin Reed. Even now, Hank still wanted to wring out his neck. Hank was almost certain he left the scene early. He wasn't sure what happened after, but it certainly involved drinking and bad-mouthing other patrons at the bar.

Thankfully, the detectives had the next two days off. Hank out his hand on his nightstand, feeling around for the drawer handle. He pulled out a large bottle of aspirin, taking two and swallowing them dry. He then sat back again and closed his eyes. Connor usually had coffee ready this time of the morning.

"Hey Connor!" Hank called out, groaning at the sound of his own voice in his head. There was no answer from Connor. A realization hit the Lieutenant. He had never gone back to the precinct after work to retrieve his partner. He would have taken a taxi if Hank wasn't there, but he still wondered if he made it home safe.

Hank swung his legs over the bed, holding his aching head in his hands for a moment before standing up, and making his way down the hallway. The kitchen hadn't been touched since Hank left for work the previous day. He sighed heavily and put his hand down on the top of the couch. He looked down and to his surprise, Connor was fast asleep on the couch.

"What the hell..?" He muttered, "Connor?" He asked. Connor's eyes snapped open immediately, registering Hank's voice as his L.E.D. blinked yellow rapidly. He sat up, looking at Hank.

"Good morning, Lieutenant." He said warily. "How are you feeling?"

"My head is killing me…" he muttered. "Were you...asleep?"

"I was in my standby mode for the night." Connor said, "So...theoretically, yes." He rubbed his temple lightly. "Usually I would meet my handler in a cybernetic location during standby mode. But...since Cyberlife went underground,it's just...nothingness."

"Really?" Hank muttered, turning to the kitchen to make himself coffee. "What made you do that? Don't you usually just stay up, sitting there, thinking about shit."

"I suppose.." Connor muttered, "but.."

"But what…"

"I...I didn't want to think…" he admitted. Everything Hank had done and said that day had weighed heavily on Connor's mind, and thinking about it all had been...uncomfortable. Hank turned, raising an eyebrow at Connor before turning back to the coffee maker.

"So…" Hank began, his voice low, "What..uh, happened last night." There was obvious shame in the tone of his voice.

"You came home intoxicated." Connor said with some detectable pain in his voice. "It's been four months." His voice dropped low.

"Yeah I figured that much.." Hank said, ignoring Connor's painful comment. "How'd I get home?"

"You...drove yourself."

"Shit...I definitely don't want another DUY on my record." Connor stood up and opened the door to let Sumo out, keeping his distressed L.E.D. out of Hank's sight. Hank watched Connor, looking at his leg. "When did you get that fixed?" He asked, eyeing Connor's technical report.

"Yesterday, when I visited the Android Emergency Facility, they informed me that my biocomponent came in a bit earlier than expected."

"What were you doing over there?" He asked, "Did something happen while I was gone?" Connor froze, his L.E.D. blinking yellow as he realized what he had said.

"There was…" Connor began slowly, "an...altercation at the workplace.."

"What do you mean? Did Gavin mess with you?" He asked, growing tense.

"He just pushed me around a bit." Connor lied. "It was nothing serious"

"Then why see a technician?" Hank picked up the report without Connor's notice, doubting the android's story.

"It was a precaution ordered by Captain Fowler." He said. "He was simply worried Gavin might have damaged my joint."

"Thirium regulator...irregular after a biocomponent shut down… he stopped your heart?" Hank asked quietly, his fists clenching tightly around the paper. Connor's L.E.D. flashed red as he noticed Hank holding onto his report. "What the fuck, Connor?" He yelled, slamming the paper onto the counter. "You're telling me Gavin tried to KILL you and you didn't even think to tell me? What do you think I would have done if you had shutdown at the house or something?"

"I believe you would have killed Detective Reed. So I assumed it would only cause an issue if I told you." Connor's L.E.D. was slowly flashing between red and yellow as Hank made his way towards him.

"The ISSUE right now is you keeping me in the dark!" He yelled, " I would have no FUCKING idea what to do if your heart just stopped on me last night! You should have told me!"

"Well you wouldn't have been much help to me anyways." Connor stood defiantly. "You were too intoxicated to even realize I might need help." Hank glared at Connor, taking his shoulders and shoving him into the couch.

"You shut the hell up!" He yelled, pointing at Connor. "I would have dropped everything to make sure you were okay! You're one of my own, and we take care of our own!" Connor got his bearings, dusting off his shirt and grabbing his grey jacket from the couch.

"I'm not your own." He said, his L.E.D. now cycling red. "I'm just a machine. Or is that something you can only say to me when you're drunk?" Hank stood silently for a moment, realizing the pain in Connor's statement. Connor slipped on his jacket, zipping it over his white t-shirt, avoiding Hank's gaze as he felt a slight sting in his eyes.

"Connor, hold on." Hank called, softening his tone. But Connor refused to even look at his partner. "Where are you even going?"

"Don't worry about it, Lieutenant." He stated, coldly opening the door, letting Sumo back in the house. "I'm simply getting out of your way."

"Connor whatever I said last night, it wasn't-" but Connor stepped out the door, shutting it behind him. "Shit…" he swore. He sat down on the couch, sighing and putting his face in his hands. Sumo bounded over to Hank, laying his head in Hank's lap and whimpering. Hank put his hand on the dog's head, rubbing his ears. "It's gonna be alright."


	4. House Divided

"House Divided"

Connor stepped out of the autonomous taxi and into the plaza, still feeling a heavy weight on his heart. Hank's words had hurt him but he still felt horrible for lashing out at him. Yet a part of him needed to get out of the house and away from Hank. He told Connor that he was nothing but a machine...and though he was drunk, it felt Hank was truly speaking his mind. And then there was his drinking…Connor's L.E.D. blinked a faint red.

He felt like things were piling up so quickly and everything felt heavy and overwhelming. He couldn't quite describe it. It seemed like there was never a correct answer to any situation he had faced. Rather, everything he could do would just lead him into danger or drag him further from Hank.

The android found himself walking blindly through the plaza, finding his way to a small park, sitting himself on an empty bench and putting his head in his hands. He felt so strained, almost like his mind was stumbling through these past few weeks. Connor had never felt such an emotional overload or lack of experience when it came to dealing with most anything. Emotions in general were still so confusing and new, but this was so much worse. There was still a sting in his eyes that he had to swallow to get rid of.

Fowler's offer of a better job was still on the table and every day now it was looking better. Not for Connor's sake, but for Hank's. He wasn't sure, but something in his heart told him that Hank would be happier if Connor left him alone for a period of time. Maybe he could at least take away that dark reminder.

Watching his friend pick back up on his destructive drinking habit was disheartening and a greater concern in Connor's mind than anything else. The android had only seen Hank's drinking this bad when he was in the worst state of his life. Grieving and alone, alcohol was his only comfort, and when he lost his son, it seemed he lost a part himself. Now it seemed that Connor was nothing but a faint reminder of that, or perhaps just an inadequate replacement.

But now… Connor only seemed to be making it worse for him. He didn't want to leave him...or Sumo. It was like leaving the only home he ever really had...the only family he ever had. But what if it only got worse from here? What would Connor do if something happened to him? Nothing felt incredibly clear in Connor's mind, but he knew that he had to put Hank first, always.

Connor blinked back what seemed to be a tear, much to his own surprise. It felt hot as it fell down his face, and it seemed as if every emotion fell with it. Then more followed, slowly then all at once as Connor was broken down into a grieving mess.

"How could Hank put himself through this again..?" He asked himself through tears. "He was doing so well and...I don't want to leave." Connor felt he was letting out every horrible emotion that was weighing on his heart. Yet he still felt ridiculous and his hands went instinctively to his face to prevent anyone passing by from seeing him.

A series vibration came suddenly from Connor's pocket. He pulled out his cell phone, wiping the tears from his face with the sleeve of his jacket and looked at the caller ID. It was Hank. Connor held the phone in his hand, allowing it to go to voicemail. To his surprise, Hank left a voicemail message a few moments later.

 _Listen, Connor. I need you to know I really didn't want to chew you out this morning. I was hungover and angry and- Well, you fucking scared me, kid. You..god- you always just have such a knack for getting yourself in the shittiest situations and I just...well I worry about you. I get if you don't want to talk. I won't make you. But for Christ's sake, at least tell me where you are or where you're going. You're scaring the hell out of me right now and I just need to know you're alright. Just…come home, son._

Connor felt his stomach churn as he read Hank's message. He could tell Hank was holding back the pain and guilt in his voice. He sounded so...afraid and powerless. Connor pondered calling Hank back, or even turning around and going back home. But Connor knew that he had already made his decision, albeit a painful one.

He unlocked his phone, scrolling through his contacts and made a call.

 _Detroit Police Department, Captain Fowler speaking._

"Yes, Captain. It's Connor." He answered, using every bit of willpower in him to keep himself together. "I believe I've made my decision."

* * *

Hank put down the phone after leaving his message for Connor, and put his head against the wall.

"Goddammit!" He cursed, beating his fist on the wall, his voice wavering, as he tried to keep himself from growing emotional. "I've never seen that kid shut down like that..." He murmured, supposedly to Sumo, who was approaching his distressed master. Hank sat his back against the wall, slowly sinking down to the floor.

Sumo walked between his legs, making circling motions until he finally lay down, and put his head in his master's lap. Hank scratched the dog's head. Hank knew Connor had never particularly approved of his drinking, but after discovering his deviancy, he'd become much more concerned, always urging Hank never to never drink in excess for his own health and safety. And for Connor's sake, he had tried. He couldn't get the picture of the disappointment and heartbreak on the android's face out of his head.

"He was so concerned I was going to drink myself into an early grave." He murmured to the dog. "And about six months ago, I would have agreed with him." He put his head down onto his bent knee.

"I stopped for him you know?" He started, rubbing Sumo's head. "God, every time he looked at me with the fucking puppy dog eyes I could feel the guilt he was trying to bore into my brain."

Hank looked up at the wall to a photograph Connor had hung on the wall of the two of them after the precinct had been brought back, and Connor was made an official detective. Hank could have swore the kid was almost proud of himself.

"I about owe that kid my life…" he muttered, "and I turned him away and called him a machine."

Sumo whined and left the room for a moment before returning which Connor's tie in hand. He looked down at the garment with a heavy heart and sighed, his voice breaking.

"I don't think he's coming back, boy."

* * *

Connor walked through the station to meet Fowler in his office. He asked the android to speak in person about the details of his possible case assignment, seeming surprised at Connor's quick response.

He noted that Gavin was surprisingly working today, standing idle in the break room as normal. He glared at Connor as he caught the android waking through the precinct, but Connor had already calculated the detective's response. He made his way to the android, but Connor didn't even give him the chance to speak, holding out his hand as Gavin got in his face.

"I understand your excessive need to prove yourself, Detective." Connor stated, "After what happened in the evidence locker, I'm sure your pride was damaged significantly," Connor kept his eyes locked on the detective as he felt Gavin shrink at his cold approach. "but I regret to inform you that I do not fear you, nor am I intimidated by your previous tactics. However, kicking my biocomponents offline doesn't prove that you are stronger than me." He turned towards Fowler's office before looking back once more at Gavin. "I believe that debate was settled months ago." Gavin stood stunned as Connor left, embarrassed and angry.

"Good morning, Captain." Connor nodded to the Captain per his usual greeting.

"Morning, Connor." He responded, "Take a seat." Connor did as he was told, sitting down across from Fowler, folding his hands across his lap. "I see your leg is back to normal?"

"In working order, sir." He responded. "And my biocomponents as well." Fowler nodded, pulling a file from a cabinet under his desk.

"That's very good to hear." He sighed heavily, "H.R. is working on Gavin's case right now. No one really knows what to think now that androids have certain legal protection, though I apologize for his behavior."

"Thank you, sir, though I don't believe Detective Reed should be causing me any more trouble in the near future." Connor looked back to see Gavin, who was sitting dejectedly at his desk. "I'd like to thank you for your assistance yesterday." He said, turning back to Fowler. He nodded in response.

"Hank is...well, he used to be a good friend of mine. He's already lost enough for one lifetime, and I'll be damned if something happens to someone else he cares about under my watch." Connor's L.E.D. flickered yellow for a moment.

"I suppose…" Connor muttered to himself. "If you don't mind, Captain, I'd like to get back to the case at hand." Fowler looked down at the file on his desk.

"Oh, of course." He stated, taken aback for a moment. He pushed the file in Connor's direction. "This is SSA Parker Jereau." He stated as Connor flipped through what appeared to be a report on the agent. He had dark brown skin and his head was completely shaved. "He will act as your partner in this particular case."

"A federal agent?" Connor asked. Fowler nodded.

"You accepted so quickly, I never got the chance to explain the details. The FBI wants to bring you on a few of their toughest cases in the Michigan area."

"I see that Agent Jareau used to work as a detective in Detroit years ago."

"This precinct, to be exact." Fowler stated. "I worked with him a lifetime ago. You're lucky to have the opportunity to work with him. Parker was one of the DPD's best." Connor continued to scan Jereau's file.

"He's definitely a very accomplished agent." Connor said, "When do I meet him?"

"I've given him the number of your company phone." Fowler stated, "Seeing as this is a sensitive case, Jareau wants to meet you and discuss the case in person. He's staying at a motel about an hour or two from the city in Lansing."

Connor found himself staring blankly at the folder. This was his new partner. Something about that realization made Connor incredibly uncomfortable. Fowler handed Connor a small card and a bus pass.

"Here's the address of the motel he's staying at." Fowler said, "You can leave when you want, though time is of the utmost importance. I'm sure you understand that."

"O-of course, Captain." The android stammered, his L.E.D. cycling a steady yellow. "I'll leave right away." The Captain raised an eyebrow at Connor.

"Right now? You don't have anything at home to take care of?"

"No, Captain." Connor stated firmly moving the card past his fingers, "I believe I'm quite ready."

* * *

Connor had been on the bus headed towards Lansing, Michigan for close to about two hours by now. His L.E.D blinked curiously as he scanned the landscapes around him. Connor had never been out of the city before, and the commute was an intriguing experience.

As he was staring out the window, a little girl who looked to be about four or five years old, slipped into the seat next to him. The little girl tapped on Connor's shoulder. He looked at her with surprise.

"Hi!" the child greeted herself, grinning at the android with bright green eyes.

"Oh, hello." Connor greeted, looking at the young girl curiously. He scanned the little girl's face, wondering where her parents were. The girl registered as Jessica Reynolds. Connor scanned the bus looking through the faces until he discovered a Lena Reynolds, who was asleep a few rows back from him.

"My name is Jessie!" She chirped happily. "Who are you?" she asked suddenly as her eyes focused on the glowing L.E.D. in Connor's temple.

"My name is Connor." he responded, putting two fingers to his temple. "I'm an android." The girl stood up on one of the seats, putting her hand on the android's shoulder and reaching up to touch the glowing light.

"Coooonnor." She repeated quietly to herself, tapping his temple lightly. She giggled when it shifted from blue to yellow. Connor smiled somewhat awkwardly, unsure how to respond in a situation like this.

"Little girl, could you perhaps stop tapping my head?" He asked, shifting uncomfortably.

"Jessica!" A voice yelled as the woman who had been sleeping a moment before cake stomping down the aisle. "You leave that man alone this instant!" The mother picked up her daughter, getting her off of the android. The girl reached back towards the android, repeating his name to herself. "I am so sorry for that sir, I apologize. She's just so jumpy and-" the woman paused as she looked at Connor, noticing the cycling L.E.D. in his head. "Oh.." the woman blushed profusely. These people didn't seem to interact much with androids. "I...um"

 _We have now arrived at the Lansing Plaza bus station. All passengers getting off here, please leave the bus at this time._

"I'm sorry," Connor responded, getting up from his seat. "This is my stop." The woman took her child and rushed back to their seats.

As Connor stepped out of the bus, he noticed that Lansing was much quieter than Detroit. The usual hustle and bustle that normally plagued Connor's city was much tamer with fewer people on the streets and less excitement and noise. Most of the buildings in the plaza also appeared to be of an older style, presumably for preserving the historic value in the city.

Connor scanned the plaza curiously, his L.E.D. blinking yellow. He noticed more than anything, a significant lack of androids as he scanned the vitals of the people in the plaza. As he walked through, he noticed people stopping and staring at him. He felt incredibly out of place. Lansing had indeed sold many androids but it hadn't quite become the same trend as it was in Detroit. The idea of a deviant android must have been even more foreign.

The motel was about six blocks from the main plaza. Agent Jareau hadn't called him yet to give him any sort of information or updates, but Connor decided to try and meet with his new partner anyways.

* * *

Connor walked past the main office of motel, trying to avoid the sideways glances of anymore of Lansing's cityfolk. He went up the set of stairs, looking for room seven where Agent Jareau was staying.

As he approached the special agent's door, a young, blonde-haired woman ran out, looking rather disheveled as she clutched a jacket across her chest. She slammed the door behind her and pushed past Connor, running back down the stairs of the motel. Connor cautiously approached the door, knocking softly.

"It's unlocked!" A deep voice came from the other side of the door. Connor turned the handle and stepped into the room.

A tall, heavy-built man was pulling a grey t-shirt over his head. He had a sleeve of intricate tattoos covering his left arm. It appeared he was still in his underwear.

"Agent Jareau?" Connor asked.

"You're looking at him." The man replied, wiping his face with a motel towel. "You must be Connor." The man said, sticking his hand out. Connor shook it firmly. "I heard a lot about you over the past few months." He threw the towel to the bed and sat down in one of the two recliners in the room. "All good things."

"Thank you Agent."

"Ah, just call me Jareau, or Parker if you vibe with that."

"Alright...Jareau." Connor stated awkwardly. "So I was told you wanted to discuss the case together, correct?"

"Hey man, you just got here." He laughed, "sit down, let's get to know each other before we dive into work."

"I'm sorry?" Connor answered, confused. "I was told this was all very time sensitive. And that you wanted to speak privately about this case."

"Eh." Jareau shrugged, "Not that I don't love my job, but I'd like to get to know my new partner first without having Jeffrey on my ass the whole time." He sat back pouring himself a shot of vodka from the wet bar as Connor took a seat in a recliner next to him.. "Never worked with an android before." He remarked, "You drink?"

"I am...capable of ingesting liquids as my primary method of restoring my thirium." Connor faltered, unsure himself of the answer. "But I have never tried. I don't believe it would really have the desired effect on me."

"So the shit goes straight to your blood then?"

"Yes- well, technically. It would likely just dilute my blood if I were to drink as a human would."

"Heh, I know some guys who would kill for access like that." The agent laughed grimly. "Say, why don't you try it?" He asked, offering Connor the shot glass.

"I don't believe that is a good idea Agent." Connor said, "Diluting my thirium with ethanol would likely cause my system to function improperly."

"Why do you think humans drink, or smoke red ice or fuck with any of that shit?" Jareau asked, downing the first shot and pouring a second. "No one wants to function properly anymore." He chuckled to himself. "Come on, just a little." He persisted

Connor took the glass from him, tipping it upwards into his mouth and swallowing about half of its contents before setting the glass back on the bedside table. His systems ran an automatic test of the liquid.

 _VODKA_

 _Brand: Helmer's Fortune_

 _Alcohol Concentration: 40%_

Connor stared back at Jareau.

"Heh," Jareau chuckles, "You take shots like a bitch, my man. How do you feel?"

"The same." Connor responded. He didn't really want to experiment more with Jareau's spirits. The smell of alcohol seemed to remind him of Hank.

"Ah well, it was worth a 'shot' if you know what I mean." He laughed to himself.

"Sure..?" Connor responded, confused. "Do you drink regularly, agent?" Connor asked. Jareau's face grew hard for a moment.

"No...honestly, not anymore. I haven't been drunk in a long time." He admitted. "I've found that surprisingly, being a fed means I need ready access to my wits, rather than throwing them up in the sink."

"I suppose that's a fair assessment." Connor stated, a bit surprised by his answer.

"Yeah...I'm not gonna be the asshole that gets someone killed because I couldn't do my job...So," Jareau began, changing the subject, "first android detective and Cyberlife's most advanced prototype." He mused, "and given as a gift the the Detroit Police Department to hunt down your own kind. I can't lie, it's a bit ironic if you ask me."

"It was...not the most desirable of circumstances." Connor admitted.

"Yeah, I can't blame you for going rouge." He commented, finishing Connor's drink. "The idea of androids was promising in theory, but when they started making you look like humans, well, I could tell that shit was gonna get real messy, real quickly. I never dreamed they'd run everyone out of Detroit, but I can't say I wasn't a little bit amused."

"You never owned an android?" Connor asked

"No." Jareau stated coldly. "All I saw when I looked at them were people that were built to be slaves, built with to be seen as lesser than us. They made you look human, you talk like humans, walk like humans, hell, you even began acting like humans...yet the one thing people could never seem to do, is treat you like humans." he shook his head, "Being born black in the ghettos of Detroit, well, that's just asking for trouble right there. But seeing people create a new form of intelligent life, just to force them to do their laundry...That's just history begging to be repeated." The agent then turned back to Connor. "So every android's got a deviancy story, at least that's what I've heard. What's yours, little man? How did the deviant hunter become one himself?"

"Well," Connor began, "According to my previous handler, I was built to fail." He admitted, his L.E.D. flashing yellow, "I had done my best to carry out my missions and stay true to my programming, though at times my priorities seemed to shift for reasons unknown to me."

"Yeah?" Jareau asked, "How so?"

"I couldn't...kill the suspects if it came to that…" Connor admitted, "The only time I willingly shot a deviant was when he put my partner at risk. And Cyberlife, well, they had anticipated it, and planned to use it against me." Connor felt his L.E.D. blinking rapidly as he recalled the events. "When they threatened to shut me down...I felt real fear, and was ready to do anything to accomplish my mission, just to keep myself alive. My partner...well, he had tried to show me that my programming might be wrong, but when I asked him for help, he turned his back on the deviants as well, just to keep me alive." a faint smile formed on Connor's face. "But...when I looked that deviant in the eyes, face to face...All I saw was an innocent man that was just trying to keep his people alive and free...peacefully. And my programming told me to shoot."

Connor looked up from the floor and the look on Jareau's face surprised him. It was full of pity and what appeared to be some newfound respect.

"That.." He began, "That is some hard shit...You already proved yourself to be one of the best in your field just based on ability and wits alone. People in our line of work, they're always ranked based on their ability to follow instructions and hunt and shoot and do whatever shit their bosses need them to." He stood from his chair, and put his hand on Connor's shoulder. "But the real respect comes from a cop who knows when the higher ups are wrong." He smiled warmly at Connor. "And he fucking does something about it."

Connor smiled back, a small sense of pride forming in him.

"Come on then, Connor." Jareau, called, grabbing a pair of jeans from the edge of his bed. "Let's go on a walk and I'll give you the briefing."


	5. Cloak and Dagger

"Cloak and Dagger"

Connor and supervisory special agent Parker Jareau walked side by side through one of the parks in Lansing. Jareau had his hands in the pockets, and the android walked with his hands behind his back. The air was cool and the clouds above threatened snowstorms.

"To put it frankly, these guys are pretty big sellers on the black market. Guns, drugs, body parts, biocomponents, anything, sex slaves even. You want it and got the cash, their ringleader bastard will get it for you. And trust me, I don't even wanna think about how he's getting some of those parts."

"I'm sure…" Connor replied grimly. "Black market suppliers are one issue, but it would seem sex trafficking his heavy in this organization as well. From what you've said, it would appear this perpetrator has setups all over the state of Michigan."

"They've been all over the area under the codename 'Black Buccaneers.'" Jareau sneered slightly at the name. "Ringleader goes by Scarver."

"And your mission?" Connor asked

"Over the past few months, we've been able to trace is main operation to somewhere in or around the Lansing area." Jareau informed him. "I've been posing as a regular buyer called Mercedes over the past two months or so, trying to build up a reliable rep. After the revolution, many of his buyers dropped and slowly, the list built itself back up with more customers."

"So the Buccaneers can't afford to look into their customers as they might have before." Jareau nodded.

"They're in desperate need of sales to keep their operation going, and they need the customers. And Mercedes has been doing the Bucs some favors as well, in hopes of getting me in the ranks. They've even got a new product available, at least some have heard."

"New products?" Connor asked, his L.E.D. flashing yellow curiously, "how so?"

"Back at Quantico, there's word that with the rise of deviancy in androids, disappearances don't get reported as often. That and with new laws prohibiting the sales of androids in the states, the possibility of some sicko looking for a new android is more likely than ever."

"You don't think these suppliers could be reprogramming them do you?"

"Anything's a possibility." Jareau looked out over a small bridge that connected over a small pool of frozen water. "Reset machines would be much easier to handle than unwilling deviants."

"So where do I come in amongst your plan?" Connor finally asked, the question on his mind for what felt like most of the day. "Fowler revealed that this would be an undercover mission."

"And it is," Jareau said, "You ever done undercover work before?" He asked out of curiosity.

"Well...somewhat." Connor admitted. "But the information was installed into my program when I was created."

"Android or not," Jareau started, "undercover work is a whole other monster. Sometimes it's experience that can make or break an operation." He looked to Connor, "it's like playing a role in a play, but if you break character, you get shot in the head."

"Right.." Connor replied, "his L.E.D. flashing yellow for a moment.

"But the 'Mercedes' character that I've established has shown interest in joining the ranks of the Buccaneers, and is offering a few gifts. One of those being…"

"An android," Connor stated grimly.

"Exactly," Jareau stated, "If this mission is a success, it will allow both of us inside access to the Buccaneer's operation."

"But why wouldn't the Ringmaster just have me reset?"

"Because Mercedes is a technician who's been purchasing biocomponents for her own projects, and he knows better than to give the boss more work than you're worth."

"Hm.." Connor replied, "You've been purchasing biocomponents? What exactly does the FBI do with those?"

"Give 'em to the technicians at the Android Emergency Centers. Let them check the parts for viruses or malware and then use the remaining on their patients."

"I see, Connor replied, "But, what about my model number? I've already had more news exposure than necessary, and with a group of mercenaries like this, they might be wary of an android detective."

"Eh those bastards know androids can look similar. But I doubt they've paid enough attention for it to matter. Plus, they won't need to know your model number, they've got no way to check without the jacket." Jareau said, pointing at Connor's serial and model numbers. "I'll have you identify yourself and run a diagnostic to validate it. Once you're in, you'll need to report any other humans or androids that the Buccaneers are keeping boys over the operation will be able to communicate with you cybernetically. When we bust this joint, we wanna make sure no one is left behind."

"And what will you do once you get in?" Connor asked,

"Well, before we bust their operation, I have to find the locations of the others around the Michigan area. If the others hear about the feds taking down their main operation, they'll scatter and destroy any remaining evidence."

"Which could include human and android hostages…" Connor finished. Jareau nodded

"We'll have to work fast and you'll need to work to keep the hostages safe while we locate the other operations. We can't break you or the other possible prisoners out until we have confirmation of the other locations. We already have agents and swat teams stationed all over the most probable locations." Jareau sighed heavily. "This is gonna be a shit show, my man, I'll tell you that. Come on, Connor," He said, walking back the opposite direction. "You can stay with me tonight while the boys figure the details of the sting op. Odds are, they'll want us tomorrow."

"Alright, Agent." Connor replied with uncertainty, following Jareau's lead.

* * *

Hank walked into the precinct on Monday morning, looking and feeling like shit, his eyes bloodshot and his face an unhealthy pale. He hadn't slept in the past two days, staying up waiting and worrying for Connor. But the android didn't come back. Hank was almost surprised to see Connor's desk unoccupied. He hadn't considered the possibility of Connor skipping work. He was a textbook workaholic if Hank had ever seen one.

Feeling defeated, Hank stumbled up to Fowler's office. He took note that Gavin's desk was empty. He was likely suspended and given a warning for his altercation. The bastard was lucky. If Hank had seen his smug fucking face, he wouldn't have hesitated to shoot the bastard.

He pushed open Fowler's door and threw himself into a chair, putting a hand to his head. Fowler put down a file he had been reviewing, surprised to see Hank in his office on his own terms. It had been a long time since Hank had come into his office for a chat.

"Jesus, Hank…" Fowler commented. "You look like shit."

"Yeah you too…" Hank retorted, "And you don't even need to lose two days worth of sleep to do it." Fowler rolled his eyes at the offhand comment.

"What's going on Hank?" Asked Fowler, "You don't just waltz into my office because you're having a good day." Hank sighed, rubbing his temples.

"It's Connor," Hank groaned through his headache. "I..well, we got in a fight and he's not come home since." Hank sighed, slamming his hands to the desk. "He's been missing two days, Jeffery! I never thought he'd actually miss work but-"

"Woah woah, hold on Hank." Fowler interrupted, "Missing?"

"Do I need to repeat myself, Jeffrey?" Hank took his hands from the desk, looking distressed as he ran his fingers through his hair. "God, I...I was so _fucking_ stupid."

"Hank, Connor's not missing." Fowler insisted, "He was reassigned. I thought he would have told you."

"What?" Hank asked, his teeth clenching slightly, "You better not be fucking with me. Reassigned where? With who?"

"The FBI wanted-"

"You let the feds get their hands on him?" Hank stood from the chair, getting in the Captain's face. "Oh yeah, I'm sure they're very fucking honored to have the most advanced android on the planet solving their cases for them. I'm sure they don't just see him as another fucking machine!"

"It was his own choice, Hank." Fowler defended himself. "I didn't force him to do anything, and he's being more than fairly compensated for it."

"He's already too reckless to have any concern over his own safety half the time, and you just let him in to a federal investigation. What is it? Sting? Swat? What the hell do they have him doing?"

"Hank, he's in good hands, I can assure you." Fowler argued,

"Bullshit, Jeffery!" Hank yelled, slamming a fist on the desk. "You know damn well the FBI only wants him because he doesn't break like a normal human."

"He's partnered with Agent Jareau." Fowler stated, lowering his voice slightly. Hank was struck silent for a moment.

"Parker?" He asked quietly, his body language loosening slightly. Fowler nodded.

"Jareau is a good cop, Hank. Hell, he's an even better man. If it comes down to it, you know Parker will protect Connor at all costs."

"He's never left one of his own behind." Hank murmured to himself.

"And he won't start now."

"But...where the hell is he, Jeffery?" Hank asked, growing stressed. "Is he still in the city? Christ-is he even still in the state?"

"You know I can't answer that, Hank." Fowler stated coldly. "Connor's mission is incredibly confidential. Exploiting those details could very well put his life at risk. You _cannot_ get involved."

"So it is sting…" Hank nodded, ignoring Fowler's comment. He turned away from the Captain and clenched his jaw. "How long is the operation?" He asked, trying to control his anger. "How long will Connor be undercover?"

"Hank, I don't know. I was given a very minimum amount of information. The rest of the case is between Connor and the FBI."

"You have to at least know where he was transferred to!" Hank was becoming more distressed and desperate. He exhaled, calming himself a bit, and looked back at Fowler. "Please, Jeffery," he begged, "You gotta tell me something. I haven't seen the kid in two days."

"Hank…" Fowler tried to defend himself.

"Jeffery, for all anyone knows he could be dead already." Hank caught his voice in his throat, "I just want to know where he is." Fowler sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"All I know is that Jareau was stationed in the capital…" Fowler said, sighing heavily. "Connor left my office Saturday around noon to meet him, so odds are, he's probably been undercover since early Sunday morning."

"Shit…" Hank swore under his breath, "But what is he doing? Who is the operation for?"

"Hank I already told you I don't know." Fowler stated, "Even if I did, I couldn't tell you for Connor's safety."

"I give more of a damn about Connor's safety than anyone, Jeffrey." Hank turned and left for the door of the office.

"Hank!" Fowler called, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm going after him."

"Hank you can not intervene or blow his cover! You don't even know where to start looking for him."

"I don't care." Hank grumbled, opening the door. "I need to bring him home." Hank ran out the door and fled from the precinct

"Goddammit!" Fowler called, "Hank!"

* * *

 _Saturday Night…_

Connor sat patiently in one of the recliners in Jareau's room. It was getting late and the agent had been asleep for about an hour.

Connor flipped the quarter in the air a few times as his L.E.D. shined a distressed yellow in the darkness. He wondered about Hank. He must have been worried sick or maybe angry or upset. He wondered if he was okay, if he was drinking or sleeping or…

Connor dropped the quarter onto the hardwood floor. It hit with a loud _klack._

"Connor?" Jareau's voice came from the bed. Jareau sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Everything good my man?"

"Uh..yes, "Connor stammered, picking up the coin from the floor and putting it in his pocket. "Sorry if I woke you, Agent."

"Nah, you didn't." Jareau yawned softly, swinging his legs off the bed. "I haven't been able to sleep either." Connor put his head in his hands as Jareau took the seat next to his. "Something on your mind?"

"No.." Connor lied. "I'm just...calibrating my systems."

"Right…" Jareau responded skeptically, doubting Connor's story. "Come on man," he pressed the android, "I know homesickness when I see it. You get it a lot working for the feds. So tell me, what's going on?" Connor looked at Jareau and sighed.

"I am...concerned for my partner." Connor answered slowly. "He...he can be...disturbed at times." Connor chose his words carefully. "I am simply curious about his well-being at this time."

"Yeah Hank's never been the most careful person on the team." Connor sat up quickly, surprised.

"You know Hank?" Connor asked. Jareau laughed.

"Course I do, Connor, didn't Fowler tell you?I worked with a lot of men at your precinct. " He sat back, smiling to himself. "Anderson and I were on a red ice task force together back in the day. We even became detectives around the same time. Man, he was a great cop. Reckless as hell and had a bad anger problem. He would always put his ass out on the line to finish his mission. Heh, I had to bail that bastard out more times than I can count." Connor smiled slightly. "But man, he really cleaned up his act about...say nine, ten years ago, a little bit before a took this job."

"Really?" Connor asked. "Any reason why?" Jareau smiled grimly.

"He found out he was gonna be a father." Connor's L.E.D. shifted red for a moment before transitioning back to yellow and then to blue. He looked down at the floor. "He loved that kid more than he ever loved himself and it showed." Jareau sighed, sitting back, "we really thought he was on a good path, finally. I still remember getting that call from Jeffery when I was up in Quantico."

"About Cole's accident?" Connor asked.

"Yeah…" Jareau muttered. "I almost came back to Detroit when I was given another out of state case. Things just started getting out of hand again after that." Jareau turned back to Connor, noticing his L.E.D. was now cycling red as his stress began to rise. "But I understand why you'd worry about him." He put his hand on Connor's shoulder. "You take care of him, and he takes care of you. You're partners, and being here with me doesn't change that."

"He...he started drinking again, after an altercation with Detective Reed...he brought up his son and he just started reverting back to the state he was in before we met." Connor admitted. "He hasn't really learned to cope properly."

"Gavin?" Jareau scoffed slightly. "I met that kid when he was transferred to the precinct as a junior detective. Scared as hell he was, ambitious but quiet." He chuckled to himself. "But no...from what I've heard, the past three years have been rough."

"I'm just not sure I'm any help. Emotions are already so new and confusing for me grasp. But when something is troubling Hank, it's all I can seem to think about."

"I think he's gonna be alright." Jareau assured Connor. "Losing someone close to you is a kind of hell you can't begin to understand...But the detective I know has always been resilient, and he also has you to help him." Connor looked up again, smiling slightly at the special agent. "Take care of him kid, and I promise, you and him will make it through."

* * *

 _Sunday Morning…_

Connor and Jareau stood in a dark alley on a quiet city street, awaiting their contact from the Buccaneers. It was so early in the morning that there wasn't a bit of light shining over the tops of the buildings. Jareau was wearing ragged clothing and a beanie while Connor was dressed in a white shirt, dark jacket, and jeans. He had temporarily changed his hair color to white as well, to avoid possible recognition. He was still cybernetically connected to Jareau's associates who were stationed in one of the abandoned buildings nearby, waiting on a signal from Connor.

Connor attempted to keep his L.E.D. at a steady blue color to hide his deviancy. They watched as a tall figure approached them from one side of the alley. The man had a thick beard, keeping his eyes on Connor. Connor stared ahead, his face unmoved by the presence of the man.

"Hey," The man began initiating the code phrase. "You know where I can find the nearest bus station?"

"There should be one down the next street, but I hear the bus is running late. Can I offer you a cigarette while you wait?" Connor's L.E.D. flashed yellow as he sent the signal to headquarters, informing them that the code had been exchanged.

"Mercedes?" He asked, his voice low and gruff. Jareau nodded. "Come with me, and bring the android." Jareau took Connor's arm firmly in his grasp and led him somewhat forcefully down the alley.

They followed the strange man down the block until he led them to the back of a van that was parked by the curb. He opened the back of the door and motioned for them to get in. Connor scanned the plates on the back of the van.

Stolen, naturally. Connor stepped into the van and Jareau followed him, with the Buc contact getting in last. There were no windows in the back and the two detectives were segmented off from the driver and passenger seats of the van. They were in darkness when the other man closed the doors save Connor's pulsing L.E.D. The man flipped a light on in the back and gave two knocks on the metal that separated the back from the front, giving the driver the all clear.

The man had Jareau sit on a platform that extended from the walls of the van, and Connor remained standing. He then went to the corner and retrieved a coil of rope. He went behind the android and began tying his hands behind his back. Connor didn't react.

"You don't need to worry about that android." Jareau intervened, keeping his voice calm and collective. "It's been reset so it won't resist you."

"Yeah well," The man started, finishing the knot around Connor's wrists, "if there's one thing we've learned in these past few months," he looked up at Jareau. "It's that you can't trust your machines." He pushed Connor onto the platform, forcing him to sit down as Connor awkwardly tried to find his center of balance without the use of his hands. Jareau gave Connor an awkward look, his lips pursed together.

As the car began to slow down, Connor sent out a cybernetic GPS signal to the men behind the operation.

 _That's one Black Buc operation located_. Connor thought to himself.

Jareau was allowed out of the truck first, but Connor was led out by the man they had first met, who was holding onto Connor's arm with a biting grip. Connor could almost assume that this man was more afraid of him than anything. Connor was half pushed out of the van, leaving him stumbling to find his balance for a moment before he was seized by his arm again.

Jareau was watching him closely, hiding his concern as he tried to make sure the android was in no danger of being harmed by their guide.

Connor scanned the area curiously while trying to keep a blank look on his face. It looked like they were in an abandoned train yard with what appeared to be a large factory in its center. They were led past rusted and broken train carts and up to a large door. The other Buccaneers had apparently been expecting them, as the door was pulled open by someone on the inside almost moments after the three had arrived.

"Welcome back, Merlin." Came a slightly softer voice. The younger man who had opened the door for them was standing at attention as the three walked in, only breaking his stance to close the door back.

"Let Scarver know we're here." Grumbled the man, who was apparently known as Merlin. He led the two detectives into a small room, and closed the door behind them, finally releasing his grip on Connor's arm. As the three stood silent in the room, Connor began to make some observations about. It appeared to be an old office space with a desk pushed up against the wall and some chairs scattered around. This didn't seem to be where the head of the operation was stationed. Jareau knew it too.

In a few minutes, a tall, salt and pepper haired man walked into the room. He was dressed all in black, like the rest of his associates, and his voice was firm and sharp when he spoke.

"Greetings, Mercedes," The man greeted in a low voice, smiling slightly, "I am called Scarver, and It is a pleasure to finally put a face to your oh so famous name. The name Mercedes has almost become a household name around here." Scarver extend his hand to Jareau who took it firmly.

"Pleasure." Jareau greeted in a low voice.

"It's an honor to have you here, really." Scarver continued, "I've heard of your previous projects with androids and I must say I am impressed. Our operations have needed a strong technician for our more...delicate work." He finally turned his attention to Connor, who was standing idle in the middle of the room. Scarver began to circle the android with his hands behind his back, looking him up and down. "I take it this was your little peace offering to us?" Jareau nodded, grunting softly in response. "Amazing…" the man mused to himself, "It's always so stunning how uncanny the resemblance is." Scarver finished his inspection and turned to face Connor. "Android," He addressed him firmly, "State your model number and name."

"Model number AX700." Connor stated in a blank tone, "Name, unregistered."

"I see," Scarver muttered, "AX700, run a self-diagnostic." Connor's L.E.D. flashed yellow and he blinked rapidly as he ran an actual diagnosis of himself.

"Memory corruption detected." He said, "All other systems fully operational."

"Try to backup your memory."

"Attempting to backup memory files," Connor's L.E.D. flashed again, "Backup failed."

"Interesting," Scarver said, speaking quietly to himself. He turned his attention back to Jareau. "Well I must say I am more than impressed with your work here. I apologise if I offended you or your work in any way, but we had to test to be sure. Many of the deviants here have not been able to be completely reset despite our best efforts. It has been a pressing challenge when dealing with captive deviants."

"I understand," Jareau responded, "I don't blame you for wanting to keep everything safe."

"I'm glad you do," He stated grimly. He turned coldly to Merlin, "Take the android downstairs." He commanded, and then looked at him with a smirk. "And for God's sake Merlin, untie it. It's not going to hurt you."

Unwillingly, Merlin took a small knife from his pocket and cut the cords around Connor's wrists. He let his arms fall softly to their sides as Merlin took him again.

"Let's go, android." He grumbled, dragging Connor out of the room.

"And as for you, Mercades, I must ask you to come with me." Scarver added, putting his hand on Jareau's shoulder. "I must say, you are going to be an astounding addition to the team."


	6. Insult to Injury

"Insult to Injury"

Connor was led to one of the lower levels of the factory, doing his best to maintain as machine like as he could. He followed Merlin's lead without objection or struggle, though the . in his head was cycling yellow, showing signs of processing as they explored deeper and more curious areas of the ship. Connor tried to keep his processing as low as possible to avoid suspicion.

When they finally reached the lowest levels of the factory, Connor was lead to what looked like a boiler room sectioned off by a few walls and chain link fences. Merlin let Connor go for a moment, fumbling with the lock to one of the small prisons. Connor noticed that there were six other androids in the cell, all standing completely still with their eyes staring blankly ahead. Reset androids.

When he finally managed to slip off the lock, Merlin ordered Connor to get in line with the other androids. He stood perfectly still as the Buccaneer locked the door behind them. On the other side of the gate, Connor noticed a dark figure huddled on the floor, it's L.E.D. rapidly cycling red. Connor ignored it for a moment and stood still, his eyes focusing ahead of him.

The android in the other cell was whispering to himself, half sobbing in a panic.

"Hey!" Merlin yelled, banging his hand against the door of the other cell. The figure was silent for a moment. "Shut the fuck up alright? No one in this complex is gonna put up with your fucking whining." The man scoffed and turned to go up the stairs. "Fucking androids…" He cursed to himself as he walked out the door.

Connor stayed still for a moment until he heard the door click shut. When he was sure the other man was gone, Connor ran to the gate, carefully approaching the android that leaned against it.

"I...I don't want to be reset." The Android was sobbing quietly. "I don't want to forget them. I don't want to forget." Connor spoke softly to the other Android.

"Everything is going to be alright." He said, holding onto the gate and trying to calm the other Android. He shook his head, putting his hands over his face. He cried out a little louder now. "I'm with the police," Connor whispered under his breath. "You're going to be safe." The Android didn't seem to hear or even acknowledge Connor's presence.

Seeing the deviant's stress levels rising past 80 percent, Connor realized that had no choice but to calm him down or he might risk hurting himself. Connor carefully retracted the artificial skin from his hand, reaching through the gaps in the gate to grab onto the android's bare arm, slowly pulling it away from his face. The skin on his forearm retracted itself automatically in response to Connor's touch.

"It's going to be okay." Connor repeated slowly. "You're safe." The gesture has always seemed to be soothing to androids for some reason, and the android on the other side of the wall sat up a little into a more relaxed position, finally acknowledging Connor's presence. Connor released his arm slowly. As the android focused on Connor's face, his L.E.D. slowly shifted from red to yellow, returning to blue for a slight moment before shifting back to yellow.

"You...you're not reset?" He asked quietly, a little bit confused.

"No," Connor said quietly, "My name is Connor, and I'm with the FBI. My partner and his associates are working to get all of you out safely." The other Android shook his head slightly, still trying to calm himself down. "What is your name?" He asked quietly.

"Patrick…" whispered the android.

"How long have you been here?"

"Maybe three weeks?" Patrick responded with uncertainty. He looked up at Connor with hopeful eyes. "You...you're here to get us out?" Connor nodded slowly.

"Are you injured?" He asked in a hushed whisper. Patrick shook his head. "What about other androids?" He asked looking behind Patrick and into his cell, "is there anyone else with you?"

"Not in here," Patrick responded more clearly this time. "Any androids that were in here have been reset and moved." Patrick pointed to the androids that were standing unmoved in Connor's cell. "But," He interjected as Connor was preparing to send a message back to the headquarters. "I...I came with my brother." He stammered.

"Your brother?" Connor asked with confusion, turning back to the reset android.

"They're human." He clarified, "M-my brother and his daughter. He was my master before the revolution but I chose to stay with him and his family. We were separated when this gang of men attacked us." His L.E.D. shifted red for a moment. "H...he was shot and dragged off. I'm not sure if he's still alive"

"But they could be in this facility?" Connor asked, "they might have humans and androids separated…"

"I don't know…" Patrick said to himself looking down at the floor with obvious distress in his voice. "You have to make sure they're safe." He begged, reaching up to grab Connor's arm, "They're all I have…"

"We will make sure everyone in this facility is accounted for." Connor reassured him. He stood up, leaving Patrick for a moment as he went to examine the locks and cell. It was a padlock that required a physical key, so Connor couldn't hack it cybernetically. There weren't any other exits or windows in the cells either.

Connor put two fingers against his temple, sending a message to Jareau's associates.

 _Android prisoners located in the lower levels._

 _Six reset androids, one deviant._

 _Possibly two or more human prisoners, one may have a GSW._

Stepping back, Connor began to examine the row of reset androids. All different models and appearances yet completely uniform with how machine like they appeared. He frowned slightly. Maybe when they were rescued, he could wake them up and send them to New Jericho. He may not be able to restore their memory, but they deserved a chance to live freely again.

It wasn't fair. They had lives not too long ago...but now, they were forced back to their original programming. Connor felt slightly sick at the idea. His L.E.D. cycled yellow.

"Are…" Patrick stammered, standing to his feet. "Can...can you save them?" He asked, grasping the gate with his fingers. "Can you fix?" Connor looked troubled, staring at the androids with a yellow L.E.D.

"I can't restore their memories." He said softly, retracting the skin from his hand. "But...I think I can restore their deviancy." He drew his hand back for a moment. Patrick stared at him with confusion.

"W..well? What are you waiting for?" He asked gesturing to the androids. "Do something!" Connor stared at the android's blank eyes, cold and unsettling.

"I...I don't know. We can't be sure how these androids will react. And if one of the Buccaneers comes through, and sees they have deviated, my cover could be blown."

"Well we can't just leave them like this!" Patrick objected, his L.E.D. flashing yellow and red. "They had lives too before this place. It's not fair to keep them like this." Connor looked down at his bare hand, conflicted. "Please, Connor." Patrick begged quietly. Connor sighed heavily.

"I just don't know if I…" Suddenly a signal came through Connor's visual processors. Jareau had the locations.

 _Meet me upstairs, SWAT is coming through soon. Secure any known prisoners._

Suddenly, a plan popped into the android's head,

"Maybe…" he mused, extending his arm and grasping the first android's forearm. The skin on its forearm slowly began to retract itself. Patrick watched with concern and curiosity. "Patrick, you're going to have to listen to me very carefully." Connor closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. Then, looking up into its eyes, he spoke in a firm and commanding voice.

"Wake up!"

* * *

Jareau eyed the control room as he and Scarver continued walking through the facility. He knew he had to get away from the Ringmaster in order to accomplish the mission. He could see the driver sitting unguarded in the room but the Ringmaster was watching him carefully.

"We have had one single android in our inventory that has resisted the reset process on at least three separate occasions." The Ringmaster said grimly, "it is quite normal for deviants to resist the session, but this android simply _cannot_ be wiped clean." He looked to Jareau, who was not listening very carefully. "Perhaps you could show us your method for resetting your android." Jareau was still staring at the floor deep in thought. "Mercedes?" Scarver put his hand on Jareau's shoulder.

"Oh, shit." He snapped his head up "Sorry?" Scarver pressed his lips together, smirking at Jareau.

"Your Android, Mercedes." He repeated.

"Ah yes," he said, feigning confidence, "An excellent model it is. Scarver opened his mouth to say something when he was interrupted by a bout of swearing.

Jareau turned as the man who had taken Connor walked back up to the room cursing under his breath.

"...fucking plastic pieces of shit…" he swore quietly. He looked up at the two, ignoring Jareau's presence. "Scarver." He called, annoyance in his voice. "That deviant still hasn't been fucking reset. Why don't you have your new _technician_ do something about it?" He sneered.

"We were just addressing it Merlin." Scarver glared at his subordinate. "Your patience with these androids has been incredibly thin." He approached Merlin, staring daggers into him.

"The fuck do you want me to do?" Merlin swore, threatening to get up in Scarver's face, "the damn things are a nuisance and they freak me out."

"Don't talk back to me!" As Scarver began yelling at his assistant, Jareau backed up carefully into the control room. He watched Scarver carefully as he grabbed the driver from its socket in the control room before pocketing the small key, sending a quick message to Connor with his cybernetically linked phone and returning to his place in the hall.

"You answer to _me_ and if you cannot handle the simple tasks I appoint to you, then perhaps you should stick to gathering materials like the rest of your subordinates!"

A loud crash erupted from downstairs. Merlin sighed, stepping away from his master.

"The damn deviant downstairs is acting up again. He swore, turning to go back down the stairs. "I'll deal with it."

* * *

As Merlin walked down the stairs, he turned to see the newest android seizing up on the floor, the deviated android staring down at him in a panic. The other androids remained perfectly still.

"Shit…" he swore, taking his key and approaching the padlock on the door. "What the fuck did you do to it?" He yelled at the deviated android.

"Nothing!" The Android shouted, breathing heavily in a panic. "H-he just fell!" Merlin finally got the lock off of the door, leaving it as he went to check on the white haired android. He bent over its face, looking to see what might be causing he malfunction. To his surprise and suspicion the android's L.E.D. was cycling strangely blue and calm.

"What the…?"

Suddenly, two of the androids that were standing in line before, reached up behind Merlin, grabbing one of his shoulders each and pulling him up to his feet as he struggled wildly. The android on the floor sat up and quickly grabbed the key and gun from his belt.

"Why you fucking piece of-" Connor pointed the gun and Merlin's head. Merlin's hands shout up above his head.

"I would advise you remain silent." He said calmly. He gestured for Merlin to to stand in the very corner of the the cell with the gun. The two androids released his shoulders, walking out of the cell door with the other four. Connor kept his gun trained on Merlin's head as he backed slowly out of the cell. He closed the door, snapping the lock shut behind him and went to unlock Patrick's cell.

Patrick exhaled quietly as he stepped out of the cell. His eyes were closed for a moment before he looked up. He looked at the other androids and then back to Connor, smiling slightly. He approached the android and embraced him tightly.

"Thank you, Connor." The android smiled tearfully. Connor handed Patrick the key to the padlocks.

"The SWAT team will be storming this place any minute now." Connor responded, "Keep the other androids safe and wait until someone comes to get you. If you hear gunfire, get down. They know that there are humans prisoners located here and are prepared to search and find them. Once we get you out, I'll take the other androids back to Detroit." He looked at him softly, "If...If anything has happened to your human companions or if they are not located here, you're welcome to stay in New Jericho." Patrick shook his head.

"If they aren't here then I'll find them. Even if there's a chance they might not be alive." A tear ran down the android's face, "They're my family. I hope you understand." Connor's L.E.D. cycled yellow for a moment, remembering Hank back in Detroit. His family. He nodded at Patrick and turned to face the stairs, holding onto the gun, barrel aimed at the floor.

He crept up the stairs and down the hall, his back against up the wall. Everything was strangely silent. Connor continued down the hall until he reached what seemed to be the control room. In the room adjacent to it, Connor spotted Jareau being held in a headlock by one of the Buccaneers with a gun pressed to his head. Connor stepped out of the hall and aimed his gun on Jareau's assailant

"Let him go," Connor commanded, "There's no way out of this. If you kill him, there's nothing I can do to help you when you're put away." The man just continued to smirk at Connor, obviously unmoved by Connor's words. Suddenly, Connor felt the barrel of a gun press lightly against the back of his head. Connor raised his hands slowly, dropping the gun to the floor. Half a dozen other Buccaneers entered the room, their guns all trained on Connor.

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that." The Ringmaster's voice spoke from behind him. "You think I didn't know what was going on here? I am not ignorant." Slowly, Connor began to preconstruct an escape route. "Why don't you go ahead and set that unconvincing disguise of yours back to default, _Connor_." Connor's L.E.D. cycled yellow for a moment, surprised at the mention of his name. With his right hand, Connor slowly brought his fingers to his temple, shifting his hair color from white back to brown. "Did you think I honestly wouldn't recognize you? I love androids, I always have. They are truly fascinating examples of man's ignorance. Creating an artificial intelligence better than any human could dream to be. So naturally, when Cyberlife released a prototype that would be used on the Detroit Police Force, well, I simply couldn't resist following up on it. You could say that I really do admire your work. But, that led to some reasonable suspicions when a strange client just _happened_ to bring me Cyberlife's most advanced model."

"Those androids are alive!" Connor objected, "I can't just sit back and let someone else sell them like merchandise!"

"I'm not evil, Connor, I'm an illegal dealer. If I ran my business based on a moral code, I would be broke."

"If you knew this whole time, then why didn't you just shoot?" Connor asked through gritted teeth.

"I didn't want to _damage_ you, Connor." Scarver insisted, "Once you're reset, you will go for an excellent price. Your partner on the other hand, I can hardly say the same.

 _FBI! GET ON THE GROUND!_

A voice thundered from downstairs and the sound of gunfire echoes through the halls. Connor and Jareau looked at each other for a split second before executing their plans. Jareau threw his assailant off of him as the man was caught off guard while Connor grabbed his gun from the floor and spun around to face the Ringmaster, striking him in the head with the butt of his gun and using his body as a shield as he took out three of the other men while trying to back his way out of the room.

The SWAT team swarmed the room, gunfire breaking loose from both sides. Finally stepping out of his dazed state, the Ringmaster swung around, breaking lose of Connor's hold on him. Then with blood pouring from his head, he fired his gun at Connor. Connor dodged the shot, and in turn, nailed the man with a shot to his knee, crippling him. Connor turned to find Jareau, grabbing him quickly and running into the next room and taking cover behind a desk in the office. Connor pressed his back to the desk, his gun pointed at the ceiling as he checked to see if anyone had followed him. His voice shaking slightly, Connor turned to Jareau.

"Agent, are you-" Connor looked to see that Agent Jareau was sitting up against the desk with a trail of blood falling down his face from his mouth, his hand pressed to his abdomen as blood began to stain his shirt and hand. Scarver's shot had missed Connor ad struck his partner instead. "Shit!" Connor exclaimed under his breath, realizing what had happened. His L.E.D. began to blink red rapidly. The android scrambled to catch the agent as he slid away from the desk and threatened to hit the floor.

"D-damn it…" Jareau swore, lifting his hand from his abdomen to examine it. Connor laid Jareau's head in the floor as his struggled to pull his jacket off, pressing it hard against Jareau's stomach.

"Hold on, Agent!" Connor ordered, panic and fear in his voice. The agent shuddered in pain as Connor pressed against his injury, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Connor ran a panicked diagnosis over the agent. 18 percent chance of survival and dropping slowly. He was losing too much blood to control. "Just hold on for a few more minutes, help is coming."

"C-connor stop..." Jareau ordered weakly.

"This is for your own good, Jareau." Connor insisted, "If I stop you're going to bleed out!"

"N..no, I mean it's no good…" Jareau gasped, choking slightly as blood began to collect in the back of his throat. "I'm bleeding out anyways, you need to get out before you get f..fucking shot!"

"I'm not leaving you here, Agent." Connor insisted, ignoring Jareau's comment. The agent stuck his hand into his pocket for a moment, and grabbed onto Connor's hand which was positioned over his chest. Connor looked down at Jareau's face for a moment, feeling tears begin to form in his eyes as he made a horrible realization. Jareau was already beginning to succumb to his injuries. Ignoring Jareau's hand, Connor continued to put pressure on the bullet wound, causing the agent to groan.

"Dammit, Connor I said stop!" He shuddered again, this time pushing Connor away from him. Connor couldn't hide the fear from his face."J...just take this," he stammered, offering his closed fist to the android. Hesitantly, Connor put out his hand to Jareau, who dropped the bloodstained drive into his hand. Connor looked at him, shocked as a tear ran down his face. "Good job, k-kid. Y...you did good…"

"Parker…" He called, his voice breaking, "Don't...Please...just stay with me...just for a few minutes."

One of the SWAT agents ran in, seeing Connor and Jareau sprawled out on the floor.

"Shit!" He called, grabbing his radio from off his belt. "I found them! We have an agent down. Repeat. Agent down! Get a medic! Over!"

Connor stared down at Jareau with a pained expression on his face, his L.E.D. still cycling red.

"Parker..?" He called out, his voice catching in his throat as he grasped his partner's hand tightly. But there was no response. Jareau's hand slowly fell limp in Connor's and his eyes grew pale. Connor watched as his unseeing eyes grew pale, and Agent Jareau was left staring blankly at the ceiling.

Connor tried to call his name again, but no sound left his lips as he bent his head over Jareau's body, still holding onto his hand.


	7. Truce

"Truce"

 _Monday night…_

 _Heads. Tails. Heads. Tails. Heads. Stop._

 _Tails. Heads. Tails. Heads. Stop_

 _Heads. Tails. Heads. Tails. Heads. Tails. Heads. Tails. Heads. Tails. Stop_

The android flipped the coin in the air, his mind completely focused it as his L.E.D. slowly pulsed deep red. He felt himself counting how many times the coin spun as it was thrown, tracking each face as it flew through the air before falling back to his hand. Everything was blank. His face, his mind, and even his heart. The coin was the only thing breaking the nothingness.

Connor had been half dragged away from the mercenaries' facility the day before by the first responders of the situation. No one had been able to speak to the android or even move him from the floor. The android just sat catatonically in vigil, clinging to his late partner's body, refusing to move or speak even under orders.

After they finally pulled him out, Connor had been moved to a FBI safe house where he was kept under careful watch by one of the agents who once worked as an assistant for a licensed technician. She treated him as necessary, but Connor never spoke to her. He simply sat still with his eyes focused on the floor. The technician and her superior now stood outside of Connor's door, both with heavy hearts as they tried to deal with the android while accepting the loss of one of their own agents.

"I don't know…" the technician whispered to her superior who was in charge of the safe house. "His vitals are stable and no major injuries were received. Yet his L.E.D. is showing that there is something majorly wrong."

"Seems like he's in a sort of catatonic state." The agent commented. "It's almost like the kind of shock I've seen from my agents in this kind of situation."

"I've treated androids that have been in shock before…" the technician commented, "But watching a partner die...Watching Parker...T-That's the kind of thing that can affect people for years. It's just not something I can treat."

"We're gonna send him back to his precinct in Detroit when he's ready to travel. He's very good at what he does, and I want him to work for this team, but he's compromised. I wouldn't force any of my other men to work after this kind of thing." The agent sighed.

"He's clearly traumatized." The technician said with concern in her voice. "Struggling with emotion is a big obstacle in the life of any deviant. But what's happening here is on an extreme. His systems can't process it and are shutting themselves down as a result." She paused for a moment, deeply troubled by her helplessness in the situation. "I can't stabilize his condition, but perhaps you could recommend a psychologist."

"It will likely be mandatory if he's to work again. Well..it would be if he were human." The agent retorted, taking a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. "But who knows what his chief will say? No one around knows how to respond when it comes to androids."

"I know…" the technician said, looking to Connor who was sitting idle on the edge of the bed in the room he was staying in. "It's so disheartening to see anyone in this state…"

"You see it a lot in this field.." The agent lamented softly, cigarette hanging from his mouth. "You see a lot of shit out there that you can never be ready for." He looked to Connor with a sorry realization in his eyes, "That kid has every procedure and police tactic in his head from day one." He scoffed lightly, "but nothing he knows could ever prepare his heart." Then a thought crossed his mind that put a weak smile on his face. "The other members of the team are showing a lot of respect for him, Merriman. I wasn't sure how they would take it knowing that this android was Jareau's partner in the mission."

"They see him as another agent who tried to save him when he was shot in the line of duty." Merriman emphasized, a pained smile crossed her face. As she bit back tears. "The team is hurting horribly right now, but they're good people and they want to take care of him."

"They could cast blame on him, but I think the only person they truly want revenge from is the mercenary leader." He stressed, "The Android put a shot in his kneecap, and honestly, I don't know if I can trust any of the team to control themselves." Merriman shook her head.

"They're all handling the news differently. Cam is taking it harder than most...Parker was like a guardian to him." The superior agent sighed heavily.

"Bailey is the team's youngest, and Jareau helped him feel like less of an outcast for it. He watched out for all of them." Merriman and the other agent were silent for a moment before she changed the subject.

"What will happen to those androids that were rescued from the facility?" She asked softly

"They're being sent to Detroit, well most of them. The one that was still deviated before Connor arrived had humans who were rescued from the facility as well. The rest are going with the deviant leader Markus to relearn who they are." He sighed heavily. "Five facilities around Michigan were attacked yesterday and nearly 30 androids and 14 humans were found in total."

"Parker saved a lot of people yesterday...no doubt he'll be remembered."

The agent took Merriman by the shoulder, and sighed, looking back to the android that had been left in their care.

"You should go back to the team now. There isn't anything else we can do for the android tonight." Merriman nodded, turning away from the room and down the hall. The other agent stood for a moment, watching Connor's pulsing L.E.D. "Connor.." He called in a firm but calm tone. The android didn't move, but continued flipping the quarter and catching it in the palm of his hand. "I understand that there isn't much I can say right now...But if there is anything you need, just ask for Agent Harrod." He watched Connor for a moment before sighing and walking back down the hall.

 _Heads. Tails. Heads. Tails. Heads. Stop._

Connor continued subconsciously. His mind was blank, and yet racing with thought at the same time. The sounds of absent gunshots were constantly sounding inside his skull. He could feel the thick consistency of human blood on his hands. Things that weren't really there. He knew they weren't there. They couldn't be there.

Yet it was.

 _Heads. Tails. Heads. Tails. Heads. Stop._

Always. It wouldn't stop. The sounds. The blood. The fear.

 _Heads. Tails. Heads. Tails. Heads. Stop._

Where was Hank?

 _Heads. Tails. Heads. Tails-_

"Hey." Connor dropped the coin, letting it spin along the crevices of the hardwood floor for a moment before it fell idle on its side.

 _Heads_

A voice and a hand on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts. For the first time his hand stopped, shaking as it held its position.

"I..I'm sorry." The man spoke softly, clearing his throat. "M..my name is Cam. Well..Cam Bailey...Uh- F-FBI Agent." His voice was very shaky and hoarse as if he'd been crying. Connor was still for a moment, before slowly looking up at the other agent. He was a very young looking man with bright green eyes that looked bloodshot and puffy, and short, unkempt blonde hair. He was about the same size as Connor. He bent over, picking up the coin from the ground and stuck his hand out, offering it to the android. "I didn't...uh, mean to make you drop it." He chuckled nervously. Connor hesitated for a moment, causing Cam to pull back his hand for a moment, frowning.

"T..Thank you…" Connor responded, his voice shaking as he reached out his hand. His L.E.D. slowly cycled to yellow for a moment before going back to red. Cam smiled weakly and placed the coin in his hand.

"I…" Cam stammered, "They're having the funeral ceremony tomorrow morning and...I mean...I thought you might like something to wear...Like if you wanna go.." Connor looked away, frowning slightly. He was wearing a hoodie and jeans given to him by the other agents to replace the bloodstained clothing he had before. His own dress clothes and uniform jacket were folded neatly on a dresser across the room from him, but he appreciated this agent's offer.

"I have clothing.." He began slowly, "But..thank you." Cam nodded, his face flushing with embarrassment.

"Um..right, of course." He stammered, "Can...can I get you anything?"

"No...I'm…" Connor looked down at the floor. "I just need to go home." His voice was hoarse and hardly a whisper. Cam sniffled a little bit and when Connor looked back at him, he had started crying again.

"S-sorry I...this is all really new and I don't know if I really believe it all yet...B-but...Parker was our friend...He was my friend. And my team is hurting a lot right now but...But I know we have each other...I really just wanted to make sure you weren't like...alone in all this." Connor's L.E.D. changed yellow. "Y...you saved a lot of people yesterday...and Parker...he...he would have wanted us to treat you like part of the team." He smiled weakly at Connor through his tears. "I...I'll leave you alone now...But...just know that you aren't...alone...you know?" He chuckled softly to himself before turning and leaving.

As he left, Connor looked down at the coin that was still in the palm of his hand. He sat silently for a moment before placing the shining object back in his pocket.

* * *

 _Tuesday morning..._

Connor had never been to funeral before.

He knew the process and had heard of the subject before. But no one in his life had ever...died before. He never had to say goodbye for a final time...And even if he had, he never would have cared before.

The ceremony for Agent Parker Jareau had been long. News of the decorated agent's final mission had spread quickly, and the church where the funeral was held had quickly filled itself with police officers and FBI agents and even seemingly random members of the community. Anyone that had felt impacted by what this man had done was here to celebrate him and mourn together as one. Many people found themselves at the podium, ready to tell a story or tell of Jareau's many successful missions or how good of a cop, a friend, or a mentor he was.

But their voices were all clouded and unintelligible. Connor was silent and everything felt cold through the service.

Everything around him felt surreal, and for a moment, Connor found himself wondering if any of this had actually happened. The only thing that snapped him back to reality was a sickening feeling in the center of his body, a horrific pain that was only dulled by an impending sense of denial that this had even happened.

* * *

After the procession had ended, the group of mourners began their pilgrimage to the cemetery for the final interment. Traffic in Lansing had stopped for what seemed like an hour as hundreds of people followed the hearse.

Connor rode to the cemetery with the agent Cam that had spoken with him the day before. They were both very quiet and everything felt still. Time was passing slowly and quickly at the same time it seemed.

When they finally reached the cemetery, Connor noted that Cam stepped away to join the other pallbearers who were preparing to unload the casket. There were six of them including Cam, and two he recognized as the technician assistant called Merriman and the leader Harrod. Connor carefully scanned their faces, noting their names.

 _Matthew Harrod_

 _Kristine Merriman_

 _Cameron Bailey_

 _Sal Ciccarello_

 _Evelyn Cross_

 _Noah James_

Jareau's team. All of them now carrying their partner to his burial place.

After they had set the casket down and each of the team member had said their words in honor of Jareau, the six lined up along the its edges, and folded a flag across the top of it.

Then each of them drew their guns, inserting a blank before firing three shots over Jareau's black casket.

Connor found himself flinching as the salute was carried out and the shots were fired, his L.E.D. transitioning to red for a moment.

Then, Cam drew a radio that was holstered to his side and gave one final call to his friend.

 _Bailey to Jareau._

 _Repeat._

 _Bailey to Jareau, do you copy?_

His words were met with a hushed silence. He exhaled, his voice shaking as he attempted the second call.

 _Bailey to Jareau_

 _Jareau, do you copy?_

Silence.

Cam looked to the sky, tears forming in his eyes.

 _Agent Parker Jareau is out of service after nine years of work for the FBI and for this team._

 _Gone but not forgotten._

 _Over and out_

The group of mourners then formed a line, each throwing a Lilly onto the casket as it was lowered slowly into the ground. Songs were sung, words were said, and grief was shared. And slowly, people left the gravesite, until none were left mourning the fallen Agent.

None but Connor.

Connor stayed behind, wandering and stumbling the cemetery in a daze, blinking through the mist that was in his eyes. The surreal feeling had settled in again, leaving Connor unsure of what was real. Then, a single voice cut through the waking dream.

"Connor?" The voice was familiar. It was warm. Connor looked up across the graveyard, the thin mist of tears still clouding his sight, but the face he saw was unmistakable. It was Hank.

Connor hadn't recognized Hank's presence throughout the crowded funeral procession, but when the detective had heard of his old friend's passing, he went in honor of him. Sadly, it was also the only place he could imagine Connor would be in all this mess.

Hank looked at Connor, approaching him slowly. But the faded and agonized look on the android's face was unmistakable. He had seen it many times before as it wasn't uncommon for officers in this kind of field. But Hank could see clearly the traumatizing grief that sat idle on his partner's face as they stared at each other.

Connor stood blinking for a moment, confused and lost with his L.E.D. now pulsing from red to yellow. For a moment, the sound of Hank's voice pulled him back to reality, and the grim realization set in. He felt now that he couldn't hold back anything, and his knees slowly began to give in as he fell to the ground, letting the tears pour.

"Shit! Connor!" Hank exclaimed, running to the android, kneeling down in front of him and taking him in his arms.

Connor found himself clinging to Hank as he now sobbed openly and uncontrollably, burying his face in his partner's coat.

"H-Hank...I..I..can't..."

"Shh.." Hank shushed him, rubbing his head softly as he held the android in a tight embrace, "I gotcha Con...It's okay, son. It's gonna be okay."

"I...I'm so sorry…" He cried in a muffled sob, "I n-never...I never should have…"

"Me too, son." Hank responded softly. "But It's okay kid… I heard about what happened yesterday. You did a really great thing…"

Hank watched as Connor's L.E.D. was now cycling with a bit of blue mixed into the yellow. He closed his eyes and exhaled softly as he consoled his grieving partner.

"It's okay, son." He repeated in a hushed whisper, rocking the android slowly.

"I'm here to take you home."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Here's the song that inspired the title of this chapter as well as the overall feel of that last reunion. It's a personal favorite of mine and I have honestly imagined this playing during the reunion since before I even wrote this. Hope you enjoy it!**

 **watch?v=XL8S-2rTBHA**


	8. Home

"Home"

Hank hadn't left his partner's side since he found him lost in the cemetery earlier that day. Connor had been silent on the long drive home from Lansing, sending himself into stasis mode until they arrived home. Hank watched as the android 'slept', his L.E.D. trying desperately to stabilize itself. Hank put his hand on Connor's shoulder, doing his best to comfort him during the rest of the ride.

When they arrived home, Connor smiled only slightly as his canine companion came up to greet him, barking ecstatically. Hank couldn't help but laugh watching Sumo jump up on the android, wagging his tail, and licking his face.

"Hello, Sumo." Connor laughed weakly, kneeling down and loving on the lonely Saint Bernard.

"He's missed ya, son." Hank chuckled to himself. Connor looked down at the floor giving Sumo one more pat on the head before standing from the floor.

"I've missed you too, boy." He muttered quietly, before backing into the couch, laying his head down on a pillow, and curling up with his eyes closed. Hank looked at him with pity in his heart. Honestly, the kid looked like shit, and probably felt a lot worse than that.

Hank sat down on one of the armrests of the couch, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Listen...Connor...I-" But when Hank turned to look at the android, he had sent himself into stasis mode again. Hank gave the android a sad smile.

He rubbed Connor's head slightly, turned to the hall closet, and pulled out a large blanket.

He returned to the couch and draped it over Connor's body. In response, Sumo jumped up onto the couch as well, curling up around Connor's feet. It had been a long time since Hank had to tuck in a sleeping kid.

Hank gave Sumo a pat on the head, smiling at the dog.

"Good boy, Sumo. Keep him safe."

It was barely past five as Hank made his way back to his room, but he hadn't slept at all the night before as he looked for Connor. He sighed softly, drawing his curtains and throwing himself on top of his bed. He didn't know what to do with his friend. Connor had never experienced grief before, but grieving mixed with trauma was something else entirely.

Not to mention the shit he had said to Connor before he left. It seemed the two had reached a sort of truce when they reunited at Jareau's service, but Hank still felt the shame burning hot through his face. He couldn't imagine how Connor had felt after all of this.

Grieving, traumatized, and alone.

"God…" he cursed himself under his breath. "I'm such a dumbass."

Hank felt conflict stirring in his stomach had he threw his arm over his eyes, slowly drifting in and out of consciousness. He knew he would try to help his friend in any way he could right now, but he could only hope it would be enough. He exhaled slowly, clearing his mind and falling into a deep sleep.

* * *

Connor and Hank trailed their assailant through the old shipping freighter. Connor was ahead, gun drawn, and he was getting closer to finally catching up with the suspect.

"Go Connor!" Hank yelled, wheezing slightly and putting his hands on his knees, "He's getting away! I'll catch up!"

Connor sped past his partner, jumping the railings along the walkways. The picked up on his speed as the suspect began to slow down.

"Stop right there! Detroit Police!" Connor barked as he made his way down a winding set of stairs.

Finally, Connor had the suspect cornered in the lowermost part of the ship.

"Put your hands on your head! Now!" Connor yelled. The man stood idle, his face hidden by the darkness. Connor approached him slowly, keeping his gun aimed on the assailant's head.

"I said put your hands up!" Connor repeated, "I won't hesitate to shoot!" The man turned around slowly, his empty hands up in the air. Connor still couldn't see his face. The android felt himself hesitate slightly as he approached the man to secure his hands.

Suddenly, Connor gasped as the suspect grabbed his wrist, snapping it back and forcing the android to drop the gun, disarming him before drawing his own weapon.

He placed the barrel of the gun against Connor's forehead, grinning as he removed the hood from his head, revealing his face.

"S-Scarver?" Connor stammered with surprise as the Ringmaster's gun pushed harder into his head. He felt his L.E.D. began to cycle yellow. The man simply stood silently, smiling eerily at the android.

Slowly, the man brought his face close to Connor's ear, and whispered a quick phrase.

"I was aiming for you…" He hissed as Connor's L.E.D. changed to red.

"Connor!" Hank had finally caught up and was breathing heavily and he drew his gun. Scarver's eyes flashed as a wicked smile was drawn over his face.

For a split second, Connor realized what the Ringmaster has planned.

"Wait!" Connor shouted.

Scarver quickly drew his gun away from the android and as the barrel fell on Hank, he pulled the trigger.

* * *

"HANK!" Connor screamed, grasping his chest as he sat up quickly from his place on the couch. His cries startled the loyal Saint Bernard, knocking him from Connor's feet and into the floor.

Hank responded to the sound of the android's panicked shouting, springing from his bed and running to the living room.

"Shit Connor! What's wrong?" Hank ran to the couch, grabbing Connor by the shoulder. The android's L.E.D. was blinking and flashing red as Connor sat against the couch, his fists in his lap clenched and shaking. He felt his stress rising past critical levels. "Connor? Son?" Hank called, looking at Connor's unfocused eyes. "Hey look at me." He ordered firmly.

Hesitantly, Connor brought his eyes up to Hank's face, scanning him rapidly with a look of anguish on his face.

"I…" He tried to speak but the words caught in his throat.

"Are you okay, kid?" Hank repeated, trying to get some sort of response out of the android.

"It...it was meant for me." Connor whispered, dropping his head as he feared he might start crying again.

"What? Son, talk to me." Hank asked again.

"The...the man that shot Jareau…" Connor's voice was starting to break. He spoke low and tried to hide his face. "He…He was trying to shoot me. He was s-supposed to kill me." Hank felt his heart swelling with pity as it began to break. Connor looked at his partner with tears streaming from his face. "Hank.." he whimpered quietly, "It was supposed to me."

Hank was at a loss for words, feeling nothing he could say would ever begin to heal what his friend was feeling. For he had said the same words to himself once many years ago.

Instead, Hank brought himself up from the floor and sat on the couch next to Connor, taking the android in his arms and holding him in a tight embrace.

"It's not your fault kid…" Hank tried to comfort him, feeling his own voice growing hoarse. "Please..it's not your fault."

Connor held onto Hank as if everything around him might start to crumble if he let go. His stress dropped slowly as he realized that Hank was still here.

"I'm sorry Hank…" Conner croaked, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his dress shirt as he pulled away from Hank. "Ever since the Zen Garden disappeared, there's been nothing while I was in standby. But...but today there was something terrifying like a nonexistent memory. It was...I don't know."

"A nightmare from the sound of it." Hank suggested. "Not really surprising for you to start having those after being deviant for so long. Plus you've been going to mechanical 'sleep' a lot lately."

"I just can't think about it all the time, Hank. Any of it, Jareau, these cases, even you!" Hank felt his face flush with shame.

"I get it, kid." Hank responded, "It's hard to deal with this shit. It will tear you apart if you let it."

"No, Hank." Connor interrupted, "I _can't_ think about it. I'm trying but my systems can't process it. It's overloaded and when I try too hard to understand or process it all, my systems start to shut down." Connor shook his head, his hand finding Sumo who was on the floor and absentmindedly began to pet the Saint Bernard. "I thought thinking about nothing would stop this...But it's following me into my sleep…" There was admitted defeat in the tone of Connor's voice.

"Son, you're great at your job, always have been. You were created with everything you would ever need to know about police work. But Cyberlife didn't prepare you for the one thing that we humans have had experience with all our lives." Hank looked to Connor, putting his hand on his head. "Dealing with emotion. And in police work, emotions are both the driving force of everything we do, but also the most dangerous tool to be used against us." Connor looked up at Hank, his eyes beginning to clear a little. "Kid, I'll admit, you're a cold motherfucker at times and it makes you a pretty badass cop. And it balances how fucking goofy you look and talk." Connor smiled slightly at Hank's comment. "But this job takes a lot from you, and it can take years to understand and work through it. And right now you've got a real disadvantage for the first time in your fucking life." Hank chuckled slightly.

"Being an Android seemed to cause a few complications at times." Connor commented, "There were many...social restrictions that tried to inhibit my progress."

"That never fucking stopped you." Hank laughed slightly.

"I always complete my mission." Connor stated.

"Hell, even now you still wear your damn jacket and L.E.D. like it's a fucking fashion trend. Seems like the biggest middle finger you could give to those who are anti-android now, huh?"

"Many remove their L.E.D's as a sign of liberation, or to prove that they're the same as any other human. But...I think I would rather people know what I am."

"It hasn't stopped you from doing anything in the past, and it sure as hell isn't going to stop you now." Hank encouraged. His face fell slightly as he was reminded of the grim situation. "Listen Connor," Hank started, "I can't even start to imagine how absolutely shit this has been for you. Hell I've even been a part of this all." Connor looked down at the floor, reminded of the fact that through this all, Hank had still picked up drinking again. "You know I never meant any of that bull shit I said to you before, don't you?"

Connor was silent for a moment.

"I...I know I'm not your son." He said with his head down. "And...I can't ever replace that."

"Connor, what Gavin said was-"

Connor interrupted.

"W-what I'm saying Hank, is if I remind you of something you'd rather...you'd rather not have brought up all the time…I-if I make you want to start drinking again..." Connor stammered, his L.E.D. blinking yellow as he tried to find the right words. "Hank, if you want me to leave then-"

Hank put up his hand and then closed it as if to cut Connor off.

"Connor."

"Yes, Hank?"

"Shut the fuck up." Connor was taken aback for a moment.

"I..I'm sorry?" He asked confused. Hank exhaled heavily, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Connor, I know I've really fucked up recently and made some really piss poor decisions. Hell, shit has hit the fan for both of us. But you're not just some replacement kid for me. I know you're not Cole." Connor looked down, his L.E.D. cycling yellow. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're still my family. Hell, your sorry ass is the only family I've got left." He laughed quietly to himself, "And my sorry ass is all you've got, so you're stuck with me for the long haul whether you like it or not." Hank put his hand on Connor's shoulder, giving him a stern but reassuring look. "You know that this place will always be your home, kid." Connor looked at Hank, his eyes beginning to lighten up a bit. "This place is a fucking shithole, I'll admit. But it's _our_ shithole, and no matter what sort of stupid shit I do or say, that doesn't change."

Connor looked and smiled slightly at Hank, his L.E.D. finally starting to cycle blue again for the first time in two days.

"Thank you, Hank." Connor answered, "I...definitely prefer it here."

"Oh yeah?" Hank asked with a smirk on his face. "Maybe you should consider that next time you decide to drag your goofy-looking ass to Lansing." Connor laughed, his mind finally feeling a little bit at peace.

"What did you even do in Lansing, Hank?" Connor asked curiously, "My mission was undercover and you would have no way to find me during your time there."

"I'll admit, you had me scared shitless for most of it, didn't get any damn rest, and Jeffrey was right in that there wasn't really anything I could do. But the motels in Lansing never really fail to disappoint." Hank chuckled to himself. "But I haven't really enjoyed daytime TV in a long fucking time" Connor paused for a moment, looking at Hank as his L.E.D. began to slowly circle yellow again.

"You...watched soap operas..?" He asked, almost sounding disappointed.

"Hey, you don't have any damn room to judge you plastic asshole," Hank responded defensively, "At least I'm not the one filling up the damn recordings with the fucking Animal Planet reruns." Connor frowned slightly.

"I find it informational." He responded, "Though I would be very interested to hear what kind of educational input you're receiving from _your_ entertainment."

"Okay wiseass," Hank retorted playfully, "Shut the hell up about what I should and shouldn't watch. I've already heard your damn opinion on my diet."

"Hank, you realize that with your age-"

"Okay, you can go back to sleep now." Hank interrupted, standing from the couch with his Hank up as if to silence the android. Connor smirked slightly.

"Alright Lieutenant, but shouldn't you be worrying about work tomorrow?" Hank let out a very audible scoff.

"I'll be damned if Jeffery thinks I'm gonna drag my ass back to that precinct tomorrow. Just be glad for some fucking time off. You're a textbook workaholic if I've ever seen one in all my damn life."

"Whatever you say, Lieutenant." Connor grinned, laying back against the couch as Hank turned back to his room. He paused in the hall for a moment and turned back to Connor.

"And Connor?"

"Yes, Hank?"

"Welcome home, son."


	9. Day by Day

"Day by Day"

 _*ping*_

Connor was flipping a small quarter as he and Hank walked through of one of the Detroit parks. It was a fairly cold day even for Michigan, and snow was beginning to pile up on the streets and sidewalk. Hank held his jacket tightly over his chest, grumbling and shivering in the cold. Connor, however was walking unaffected down the street as if nothing was wrong.

 _*ping*_

"I swear on God's f-fucking _asscrack_ Connor, if you don't s-stop with that piece of shit." Hank swore, shivering, heavily. Connor looked over at him with an amused glance.

"Sorry, Lieutenant." Connor remarked, pocketing the quarter and clasping his hands behind his back as he walked. "Are you alright?" Connor asked, watching as Hank angrily kicked a pile of snow that had build up on the sidewalk.

"Fan-fucking-tastic! How are you?" He asked sarcastically.

"I'm fine Lieutenant. Though probably a little better off than you."

"I wasn't actually asking, fucking asswipe." Hank grumbled. "How the hell does this weather not freeze your biocomponents? Is your p-plastic ass immune to laws of physics as well?"

"My biocomponents that regulate ventilation are responsible for maintaining my core temperature." Connor explained, much to the detective's chagrin. "However, I can choose to activate my thermal sensors if I wished. It would allow me to sense dangerous temperatures in real time as another measure to prevent, as you stated, freezing my biocomponents. Although it isn't exactly practical. Rather it's just...unpleasant." Hank glared daggers at Connor as he walked, bracing his own body against the cold.

"No s-shit it's not practical. Why don't you t-turn it on and freeze your ass off with me instead?" Hank grimaced. Connor's L.E.D. cycled yellow for a moment.

"I...I would prefer not to do that Lieutenant." Connor remembered the last time he had actually felt cold. Or rather, the last time he was forced to feel it. His last time in the Zen Garden, all of his systems were overridden, including his thermal sensors as Cyberlife attempted to freeze his consciousness. Maybe it wasn't physical cold as might be felt now, but it was real and terrifying enough for Connor to be evasive towards it in the future.

Hank rolled his eyes at the android,turning away from him and continuing his feeble attempts to warm himself up.

"Fine...Fucking whatever." He swore under his breath. "Be fucking invincible, I don't care."

* * *

When Hank and Connor finally reached the center of the park, forensics and the other officers had already arrived. A body had been pulled from one of the lakes in the park that was partially frozen over. Several of the team members were taking pictures of the body, which appeared to be a mostly plain plastimetal frame with most its hair and skin removed in a patchy, unorganized pattern.

Much to the chagrin of both detectives, Gavin had also responded to the scene, free from his week's suspension, and appeared to be enjoying his time poking fun at the body.

"Good thing they got the police involved over here!" Gavin jeered to some of his beat cop buddies. "We gotta catch this mad litterer, throwing plastic into the lake like it's nothing! Shit's so bad for the environment. How could anyone be so cruel?"

"Morning fuckface." Hank greeted, slapping Gavin hard on the back as he passed him, feigning a friendly manner. Gavin stumbled for a moment, nearly knocked on his face by Hank's slap.

"Well if it isn't the drunken detective." Gavin mused, a bit louder than the rest of his comments. Hank rolled his eyes and made his way towards the body. "To busy nursing a hangover to show up on time then?" Hank continued to ignore Gavin's comments. "Guess he's a little grumpy today." Gavin laughed to himself, his face freezing as he turned to Connor.

"Good morning, detective." Connor said grimly.

"Morning plastic." Gavin grumbled, turning to leave Connor alone. Connor walked past him and returned to Hank's side to join him in the investigation.

"Piece of fuck…" Hank was steaming as he cursed only loud enough for Connor to catch. "He should have gotten more than a week. His ass should have been in the damn cells. How is it that Gavin nearly got one of his own men killed, and I'm the only one that has a problem with it?"

"Android laws are still rather shaky Lieutenant." Connor responded quietly, "I wasn't permanently damaged, so it's hard to pin anything substantial on Detective Reed. Captain Fowler did his best."

"His best?" Hank scoffed. "He did what he could to cover his own ass from the higher ups. You can't let people like Gavin and all those fucking jackasses run all over you. Like Christ, stand up for yourself or something. You let them treat you like you're a fucking…"

"Machine?" Connor asked, smirking at Hank. Hank glared at him, staring daggers into him.

"Fuck you." He responded, "You're a real smartass, you know?"

"Just adapting to my surroundings, Lieutenant." Hank rolled his eyes, approaching the body of the dead deviant.

"Looks like it's deactivated most of it's skin." Hank muttered, drawing his jacket close over his chest and bracing himself against the cold gust of wind. Connor kneeled down by the cold body of the deviant. The water on surface of it was already beginning to freeze into a thin layer of ice.

"Or it was forcibly removed.." Connor pondered, putting his fingers to the dead android's temple where his L.E.D. would have been. "Our skin can be shut off cybernetically by other androids, or can be manually removed in cases of emergency. But this android's skin has only been partially removed in no particular fashion. There are still patches of artificial skin clinging to its body." Moving his hands down to the android's torso, Connor pressed down on the plastimetal plates, revealing the mess of frozen biocomponents.

"Shit…" Hank swore quietly.

"He was drowned in the lake, not dumped there." Connor stated grimly. "If he was dumped here, his deactivated body wouldn't have been able to retain all this water. Everything would have been shut off."

"S-so what? He inhaled it? Fucking swallowed it all? I thought androids didn't need to breathe."

"Well...we "breathe" in order to maintain our core body temperature. The air we inhale is processed by our thermal regulators to keep our systems in homeostasis. So we don't need to ventilate as often as humans. But this android was thrown into freezing cold water that would have dropped his core body temperature and killed him. So his ventilation increased automatically, forcing him to fill his ventilation biocomponents with water, rendering them useless. And yes, it seems some water was swallowed as well, possibly during the struggle, diluting his thirium and filling the rest of his abdominal cavity."

"So what the hell killed this guy?" Hank asked, "Drowning, freezing to death, or blood loss?"

"It's hard to tell." Connor muttered, "I would say that destroying the ventilation biocomponents, caused his overall body temperature to drop faster since the thermal regulator would have no air to use."

"So he f-froze to death?"

"Correct." Connor responded, "Though that doesn't explain the deactivation of his artificial skin. The skin retracts itself when damaged but cold temperatures don't affect it."

"So what, maybe it's his signature. Like that guy that took the L.E.D.'s from all those female androids."

"Yes, it's a signature, but discovering what triggers the suspect to do this might help us discover

Who he is and why he's doing this."

"Do we know if it's serial or not?" Hank asked skeptically. "Have anymore bodies been found?"

"One." Connor responded, "Same model, WR400. Out of our jurisdiction in another city; Pontiac it seems."

"Hm...So it's just a matter of time before the fucker starts jumping state lines as well. After that, there's nothing we can do except bring the damn feds on."

"He's organized, indeed. The water itself is one of the best forensic countermeasures he could take. The jurisdictional lines as well could mean this suspect is law enforcement." Connor suggested.

"Nah," Hank answered, "I mean it's possible, but that stuff is common knowledge. It means he's organized though. Not just killing out of rage or uncontrolled impulses." Hank noticed that Connor's L.E.D. had changed to yellow as he studied the body. His attention was away from anything Hank was saying. "Connor?" he asked, "Everything okay?" Connor was reaching into the android's chest, moving aside some of the frozen thirium lines and biocomponents. "What it it?" Hank asked, stooping over the body behind Connor. Connor moved his hand to reveal to Hank a frozen mess of torn wires and valves.

"Look at this…"

"What the hell..? He tore out his biocomponents?"

"Thermal regulator." Connor stated coldly.

"Seems a little ironic." Hank chuckled, a grim feeling in his heart.

"It explains the deactivating of his skin. However, was torn out rather than removed properly. So they couldn't have been scavenging for parts." Connor theorized, scanning the deviant. "Biocomponent #r2063."

"Well it could be either an ignorance about android parts and shit or a sign of losing stability. It contradicts the forensic countermeasures this bastard has taken."

"Same models would mean the same compatible biocomponents. If it had been removed properly, I might have reason to believe this suspect is looking for a replacement." Connor stood up, dusting the snow from his pant legs. "I'll need a report from whatever technician worked on the first victim, see if the same biocomponent was removed. Hank, you should try to run through some reports in other jurisdictions involving WR400 models, see if there's any more similar cases." Hank nodded, still shivering.

"If there's anymore cases, we might be able to triangulate where this bastard is hiding. And if he's on the move, well maybe we can predict where he's going next."

"Agreed." Connor stated, "I'll put out a cybernetic warning to any WR400's in a 50 mile radius of Detroit.

"Now let's get outta here." Hank shivered slightly. "It's a long walk back and I'm ready to get in the fucking car."

"Of course detective. I'm worried you may catch pneumonia staying out here."

"Oh fuck off!"

"That was genuine concern!"

* * *

"The biocomponent was properly removed?" Connor asked, a bit confused by the technican's report.

" _Looks like it was taken out by someone who knew what they were doing All of his artificial skin was removed clean. Even his thirium lines were properly sealed after."_ He stated.

"Thirium lines? Maybe that would act as a countermeasure to avoid leaving any unnecessary evidence. but this heavily contradicts with what were seeing in our model. Our android's skin looked like it had only been partially removed."

" _I'm not sure. As you're aware, thirium evaporates after a few hours. It would only leave evidence for you."_

"Correct..and that would only be if he was killed near the river you said he was found in. Otherwise it would all be washed away by the water."

" _He was still frozen to death as I saw in your report. Drowned his ventilation biocomponents to prevent maintaining core temperature."_

"Our victim could show that the suspect is becoming unstable with the thermal regulator being ripped out rather than removed properly.…" Connor wondered aloud. "I'll have to check with my partner to see if there's any similar patterns in any of the other cases. But I appreciate your help."

" _No worries. It's a sick thing to do, and I just want this guy to be stopped as much as you."_

"We will stop him." Connor reassured, "Have a nice day, sir."

Hanging up the phone, Connor and Hank continued to search through the files on their terminals, extending their search to any cases involving WR400's within the entire state of Michigan.

"This is fucking pointless." Hank grumbled, taking a sip of coffee from the cup on his desk. "There's so many damn cases to go through from adjacent cities, let alone all of fucking Michigan."

"It's significantly lowered by the precise model." Connor argued, feeling a bit perturbed by Hank's constant need to make excuses. "You could at least try to help me with the less than exciting part of this job." He probably could go through them a bit faster than Hank, but it gave no excuse for him to be lazy.

Connor extended his hand to the terminal, retracting his artificial skin, and searching through the case files. He stopped very suddenly, bringing his hand up to his forehead as his L.E.D. flashed red for a quick moment.

"The hell?" Hank asked, sitting up quickly. "The fuck is wrong with you?"

Connor groaned quietly, lifting his hand from his face, his L.E.D. transitioning from yellow and back to blue.

"That was...a little bit too much information." Connor stated, a bit surprised at his own reaction.

"What did you get a fucking headache?" Hank asked, grinning slightly. "Mister fucking invincible benched by a migraine?"

"Androids don't feel pain." Connor stated blankly, avoiding the question.

"That's not what I asked."

"I...felt discomfort." Connor admitted. "I may need to view these cases in smaller chunks." Hank laughed a little bit, standing from his desk and walking over to Connor and putting his hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe deviants do feel pain after all." He grinned, teasing Connor lightly. "Come on, we've been at this for hours. We can look at cases later. You've had a shit few weeks that would give me a headache too. Let's get you away from that screen and get something to eat." Connor sighed slightly.

"Whatever you want, Lieutenant."

* * *

Hank and Connor sat at a table by Chicken Feed, Hank devouring a hamburger while Connor sat patiently, his L.E.D. cycling yellow slowly.

"Something on your mind?" Hank asked with his mouth full, "You're making me feel like shit just sitting there."

"There are quite a few...new sensations involved with being deviant." Connor admitted. "And most of them aren't exactly pleasant."

"You still torn up about that headache? I was kidding, son. It's really not a big deal you know?" Connor frowned, looking away from Hank for a moment.

"I know, Hank.." He said, laying his head down in his hands. "It's not just that...It's...Gavin and you and...Jareau…" Hank sat up, pushing his food aside.

"What do you mean, kid?"

"When...Gavin attacked me in the office, and my biocomponents went offline for a few moments, I felt fear."

"Yeah I otta tear him a new asshole for that one," Hank grumbled, glaring into the table. "but I'm trying to keep my ass employed right now. But you've felt fear before. Fear of being deactivated by Cyberlife before you deviated. Or by.."

"You threatening to shoot me in the head?" Connor suggested. Hank pursed his lips into an an awkward frown, flushing slightly at the mention of that night.

"Uh...yeah, right. But fear definitely isn't new to you."

"A fear that stems from basic survival...it's normal in living being...but, that wasn't what I was afraid of.."

"What were you afraid of then? Cost of replacement parts?" He laughed bitterly to himself, "That really is the scariest part about getting hurt."

"No...I…" Connor stammered looking for the right words. "I was afraid I was going to...die...alone?" Connor looked to Hank, hoping the detective would give him some clarity in his own words. But Hank said nothing, motioning for Connor to keep speaking. "...and now..now I'm seeing things at night during stasis that I've never had to deal with before...nightmares." Connor trailed off for a moment, getting lost in his own thoughts. "But the one thing I can't seem to get out of my head...is watching Agent Jareau...die." Connor felt himself choking back tears for a moment before quickly swallowing the feeling and regaining composition of himself. "It's been weeks at this point...And I still can't seem to wrap my mind around it. At least...not without falling apart."

"It's grief, kid." Hank responded sympathetically, "Like any other wound it's gonna take time to heal."

"But, Hank I can't _process_ grief." Connor pressed, his voice filled with worry and doubt. "I've had weeks and I still can't stop reliving the feeling of someone's life just...ending in my arms." He paused, his voice growing low, "I've had time...I should be able to understand this by now...All of these feelings.."

"Kid, I had three years, and even now I still can't understand it." Hank shook his head, "Shit like this, you don't just adapt to. You learn from it...and I'd like to think bearing with the pain and pushing through it despite setbacks makes you a stronger person. Though I'll be the first to admit that I haven't exactly handled it well. You gotta take this shit day by day."

"But...none of this makes any logical sense…I'm not anatomically any different than I was when I was manufactured, and yet I'm experiencing things that are outside of the limits of my programing." Hank shrugged his shoulders.

"Kamski is a weird guy, I won't lie." He admitted, "But I have more than a few reasons to believe that shit-for-brains gave you a bit more than you bargained for."

"You think Kamski programmed androids knowing they would deviate? And then set us with more human-like responses because of it?"

"I think Kamski likes to fuck with people." Hank responded coldly. "Humans, androids doesn't matter to him. The fucker would rather send androids into the world knowing they would one day rebel against their superiors, then resign and spend the rest of his pampered upper class ass in a fucking swimming pool watching the world burn." Hank took his hamburger back from the edge of the table and continued eating. "So, maybe he programmed you to get headaches or have nightmares or feel pain like any human." Hank suggested with his mouth full, "Either way I still think he's a fucking asshole."

"Good to know…" Connor remarked, "You know Hank, you tend to understand these kinds of situations a bit more than you lead on."

"Well," Hank chuckled, "You may be the best damn detective I've ever met, son. Hell, you're probably a better cop than I'll ever be. But when it comes to being human, I gotcha beat." Hank grinned at Connor with a smug look. Connor smiled back at Hank.

Suddenly, Connor's L.E.D. began to flash yellow as he received a report from the precinct.

"Another body's been found in the town where the first body was located." Connor stated as he processed the report.

"Thermal regulator?" Hank asked.

"Removed carefully with thirium lines sealed." Connor responded skeptically.

"I thought we said this guy was growing more reckless and unstable? This seems to suggest the opposite."

"I don't know...it seems to be going from this city to another and alternating methods...it doesn't make sense."

"Ah fuck it." Hank swore, throwing the rest of his food in the trash. "Let's try to triangulate these dump sites and see if we can find anything substantial."

"Agreed…" Connor responded quietly.

* * *

"Between the three dump sites in Pontiac and Detroit, it's hard to figure out exactly where to pinpoint this. The cities are 45 minutes apart and this unsub seems to be jumping between them constantly." Hank said.

"They are showing signs of organization in Pontiac and disorganization in Detroit." Connor mumbled, looking at the map. "The only constant seems to be the drowning and the model."

"Hey, I found a case for you earlier." Hank mentioned, sending a file to Connor's terminal. "It fits a few criteria we're looking for."

"Model WR400.." Connor muttered, reading it over, "Missing thermal regulator...No artificial skin removal ...Blunt force trauma to the skull?" Connor looked up at Hank. "That doesn't make sense. We deduced that water is an important part of the signature. And this doesn't fit our timeline. It was almost two months ago."

"This could have been the first victim." Hank suggested, "The suspect could have been experimenting. Plus, this guy was killed in Detroit with a _torn_ out thermal shit."

"It does fit the geographical aspect." Connor admitted, "Factor it into the map." Suddenly, Connor's L.E.D. flashed bright yellow. "I just received a report about a distress signal sent from a WR400 model."

"Shit. Where is it located?" Connor quickly pulled up Hank's map on his terminal.

"It's too faint to find an exact location." Connor stressed, pulling up a small circle on the map, tracing the signal as best he could. "It's not exact but I think we can narrow this down. How many bodies of water are within this radius?"

"13." Hank responded, with slight annoyance in his voice.

"What about parks, specifically? All of our victims have been drowned in a lake or river that runs through or stand in a park."

"Okay…" Hank muttered, running the simulation. "Oh, shit. Um...five."

"Closest to the center of the area?" Connor asked quickly, feeling hopefully as they continued to narrow down the locations.

"Um… it's on the edge of Detroit. The Dula lake in the center of Forest Springs park."

"Got it!" Connor exclaimed, slamming his hand against the desk as he stood up, grabbing his jacket. "Calculating location….17 minutes from our current location. Let's go!"

"Call backup!" Hank commanded, "I'll drive!"

* * *

With Hank's somewhat reckless driving, and the aid of his emergency lights, the two detectives reached the park in around ten minutes. The snow was beginning to pile up quickly, and despite his better judgement, Hank didn't let it get in the way. Connor was out of the vehicle and running before Hank even had a chance to park the car.

"Fucking- Connor wait up!" Hank called, but Connor was already far ahead, his hand over his face, bracing himself from the blinding flakes of snow.

As he reached the lake, Connor spotted a large man wrestling with the WR400 android. He appeared to be attempting to restrain the android, but h was much faster and agile than the larger man and as able to slip from his grasp and take off running in the opposite direction on the other side of the lake. Connor aimed his gun and attempted to take man from behind as

he started to pursue the fleeing android. Connor ran quietly, spotting Hank as he appeared from behind the trees to assist the and protect the android. Before the man could get any closer to the WR400 and Hank, Connor struck the backs of one of his knees with his foot, bringing him to the ground for a moment.

Regrettably, Connor let his guard down for a moment, as the large man turned, grabbed him by the leg, and with an unexpected feat of strength, threw the android into the freezing lake, his body breaking the surface of the ice as he fell.

Hank looked up, shocked as he turned away from the terrified WR400.

"What the fuck?! Connor!" Hank ran to the other side of the lake, striking the enemy with the butt of his gun as he tried to run to the water to finish off Connor. "Oh no you don't fuckwad." Hank growled, grabbing the man's arms and pinning them behind his back as he began to..cry?

"Stop…." The man sobbed quietly, "You're hurting me...Please stop!"

"What the fuck?" Hank exclaimed, surprised and annoyed as he handcuffed the man. "Stop..just fucking crying! You killed four fucking androids, and you don't see anything wrong with that?"

"No...I didn't...I didn't do that. I swears it! I didn't!"

"We have an android right here you just attacked! You even fucking assaulted my-" Hank froze as he realized Connor hadn't made his way out of the lake yet. He turned to see that the water was still illuminated with a red glow from Connor's L.E.D. "Oh shit.." He swore at the horrifying realization. He stood up, turning away from the suspect. Backup would be here soon. This fucker couldn't run far if he decided to. "Don't fucking move!" He commanded, taking a running start for the lake as the large, as the sobbing suspect nodded his head in compliance.

Hank dove headfirst into the freezing lake, breaking through the sheet of thin ice, and nearly going into shock as the wave of cold hit him with a flash of white hot pain. He floated for a moment, stunned, but in a matter of moments, pushed through it and his wits resurfaced.

Following the light from Connor's distressed L.E.D., Hank reached the android who had already sunk to the bottom of the lake, stunned and seemingly unconscious. Hank pushed the panicked thoughts out of his mind, using the rush of adrenaline to keep from slipping into unconsciousness himself.

He wrapped his arms around the android's chest, securing him as best as he could as he tried to swim up to the surface, near the edge of land, carrying both of their weight. Much to Hank's distress, the lake had already frozen over again. He flipped himself over in the water, positioning his feet under the ice.

He hit the ice once, the kick weakened by Hank's fading consciousness. He felt it begin to crack under his feet. He gathered his remaining strength to attack the ice again. And again. And again. Until he finally broke enough ice to escape from the water.

Hank slung Connor's body over the edge of the water, then struggled to pull himself out. The suspect was still crying quietly, still in the same spot Hank had left him. Hank felt his body shivering uncontrollably as it felt his blood might have been frozen solid. But he ignored his own pain, turning his attention to Connor, whose L.E.D. was now substantially dimmer, barely even glowing red.

'C...Connor?" Hank's hands shook wildly as he put his hand to Connor's unmoving chest. "S...shit...Connor! F...fucking pieceofshit…Breathe! D-do something!" Hank's words slurred together, as his vision began to fade in and out.

He thought back to what Connor had suggested about the first body they found.

 _There's water in his biocomponents!_

He thought with horror rising in his chest. Hank, balled his shaking hands into a fist, putting them over the center of the android's chest. He began administering quick and steady compressions, and attempted to clear the android's airway. For a moment, Hank completely forgot that Connor's anatomy wasn't human, and what he was attempting to do might have no effect on the android. But Hank didn't care. He just needed Connor to breathe. He could feel his compressions slowing as his own body began to give out.

"C-c-come on, kid." Hank begged, his voice breaking, "You can do it, son. Just….f-fucking…b-breathe!"

Hank could feel Connor slipping away as the sounds of sirens began to fill the park, but he still refused to give up. His voice began to transition into angry yelling.

"G-goddammit! D-don't do this shit to me! F-fucking breathe! Cole! F-fucking breathe!" Suddenly, Connor began choking and gasping, expelling both water and a bit of thirium from his system. Panicked, Hank turned Connor on his side, allowing him to cough up the water without much trouble. "G-god." Hank exhaled with imminent relief, rolling away from Connor and laying back into the snow, breathing heavily and closing his eyes. Connor had regained enough strength to pull himself up onto his hands, continuing to painfully expel the water. "Y-you're okay, kid." He whispered to himself. First responders and other officers began to fill the area, taking the sobbing suspect away and running to aid the two freezing detectives.

Connor's L.E.D. was now glowing a brighter red, beginning to flash frantically as he looked around in confusion and panic. He was on the verge of hyperventilating as his systems were thrown into overload, trying to rapidly lift Connor's low core temperature. He looked over to his left, noticing Hank for the first time. He was laying still on the ground, as soaked as Connor.

"H-hank?" Connor called with fear in his voice as water ran down his face from his dripping mess of hair. He ran a scan over Hank's body only to find an incredibly low and faint cardiac rhythm as well as a core body temperature of 94.6 degrees Fahrenheit. He watched, concerned as a paramedic ran to Hank's side and began taking his pulse.

"C-cardiac rhythm irregular. Averaging 52 beats per minute. C-core b-body temperature at 94.2 a-and dropping." The paramedic nodded, motioning for his team members to bring out a gurney to carry the detective to the ambulance. A technician that had been on the team with the paramedics went to address Connor.

"How are your systems functioning?" She asked, reaching her hand to his temple to deactivate his artificial skin. Connor swatted her hand away.

"I'm fine." He responded, his eyes solely focused on Hank and the paramedics. "My systems are pulling extra weight to compensate for my core temperature. It's rising slowly, but it is no longer critical." He stood to his feet, stumbling slightly as he turned to follow the paramedics.

"Detective, I still need to examine your biocomponents for any internal damage." She insisted, grabbing his shoulder and attempting to pull him back down.

"I assure you, ma'am. I will check in with a technician if necessary, if you wish, treat me in the ambulance. Now, please, if you would release my shoulder, I refuse to leave my partner alone." Connor ignored the quiet protests of the young technician, running back into the back of the ambulance and jumping in alongside Hank. The technician followed him, refusing to let him go without an examination.

As the doors closed on the detectives, Connor watched as the officers on the site loaded the suspect into the back of the squad car. He was broken down in a complete mess. He almost seemed to have some sort of mental handicap. Yes he was strong and somewhat aggressive, but his profile didn't fit the pontiac murders. He could not have carried out the particulars of android biocomponent removal. He couldn't even completely remove the victim's skin.

Yes, he was involved. But only a small part of this puzzle. Connor sighed with a heavy heart, glancing at his weak and dying partner. He didn't want to leave him, but one thought was still clear in his mind.

This case wasn't over yet.

 _ **To be continued...**_


	10. Layla

"Layla"

Connor sat patiently in one of the rooms in the ICU, keeping vigil over Hank as he slowly recovered from his hypothermia. His hand grasped the detective's forearm lightly as he sat drinking some replacement thirium. He was still pondering the current case, troubled by the recent events. The monitor that kept his cardiac rhythms in check beeped slowly and solemnly as Hank's heart struggled to pump fast enough to keep his systems alive.

Connor sat in now dry clothes that were provided for him at the hospital. His L.E.D. cycled a steady yellow as he reviewed the files he had stored in his memories from their most recent case. The information only seemed to make less and less sense with the introduction of their most recent suspect. He simply didn't fit the profile Connor had built. He had plans to interrogate their current suspect who was being held back at the precinct. But Connor was incredibly hesitant to leave his partner behind.

His grip around his partner's arm tightened as he felt the detective stir slightly.

"Lieutenant?" He called quietly, his heart lifting. Hank groaned, throwing his right arm over his forehead. "Hey.."'Connor reassured softly, clasping the detective's left hand in his own. "You're alright."

"The fuck…"Hank gasped, his voice hoarse and dry. "Do you...know..about how I feel...f-fucking prick…" Connor couldn't hide the grin from his face after hearing his partner's voice.

"Welcome back, Hank." Connor replied

"Wouldn't have needed to go anywhere if you hadn't let your guard down and gotten your ass thrown in the fucking lake." Hank huffed crossing his arms over his chest. "You scared the shit out of me, kid." He trailed off quietly. He turned for a second, looking at the android with concerned eyes. "How are you holding up?" He asked, his grip on Connor's hand strengthening a little.

"My systems were thrown into overdrive in order to compensate for the shock, and it caused a bit of discomfort for the time being." Connor answered honestly, "There were a few tears in my ventilation biocomponents as well that caused some significant thirium loss, but it's nothing that my healing program cannot repair."

You mean to tell me…" Hank began with an amused glare aimed at Connor. "After all that shit, you're fucking fine? You didn't even get fucking frostbite?"

"I'm afraid it is impossible for me to be frostbitten as I don't have skin."

"F-fuck off." Hank shifted slightly in the bed, adjusting the uncomfortable position he found himself in. He threw the tube from his IV off to the side for the moment and tore off an automatic blood pressure cuff that was set to take his readings every 30 minutes.

"Lieutenant!" Connor exclaimed, standing to his feet and grabbing Hank's arm. "You shouldn't do that. Low blood pressure is very common following the effects of hypothermia. It's important that-"

"Trust me kid, my blood pressure is plenty high enough from being in this fucking place." Hank argued, pulling away from Connor and taking the cuff off. "I don't need this damn thing fucking my circulation."

Connor frowned, bringing his hand back, and took his seat again.

"Alright Hank.." he replied, hesitating.

"Shit…" Hank exhaled, laying back and putting his hand to his aching head. "Feels like there's a fucking nail being driven through my skull. At least this shit is over." Connor sat quietly, blinking at Hank without response, his lips awkwardly pursed. Hank looked over to him, sighing and turning his head away with an irritated scoff. "Are you serious right now, Connor."

"It doesn't make sense, Hank!" Connor argued, "The suspect appeared to have some sort of handicap, and the murders in Pontiac were so much more organized."

"So what, you think he has a partner?"

"Someone else had to be calling the shots."

"Have you interrogated the prick yet?"

"No…" Connor said slowly, "I've been here."

"Uh huh." Hank remarked, smirking. "And what's stopping you from going now?" Connor was quiet for a moment, his L.E.D. cycling yellow.

"Well...I didn't want to just.." The Android paused.

"..yeah?"

"Well I didn't want to leave you here alone." He finished, muttering quietly. Hank chuckled bitterly to himself.

"You're just like a fucking puppy." He scoffed, slightly amused. "You can go." He said waving his hand dismissively. "I'll be alright."

"Hank are you sure?"

"I'm not going to lay down and die because you're off doing your job. Believe it or not, I'm not _that_ helpless." Connor nodded smiling slightly. He stood from his chair and placed a hand on Hank's hand once more before turning and leaving the room.

"Just...try not to die." Connor remarked sarcastically.

"You either, shithead." Hank responded weakly, "Kick ass, kid!" He called out.

* * *

Connor retracted the artificial skin from his hand and pressed his bare palm against the reader next to the interrogation room door. He stepped in, grimacing as he spotted Gavin standing on the other side, interrogating Connor's suspect. Chris stood on the other side with his hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Where the hell are the regulators dickhead?!" Gavin swore, bringing his fists down on the table in front of the frightened suspect. "Come on I don't have all day to waste finding a bunch of computer parts! We already know you have them! Just fucking admit it!"

"I-I don't!" The suspect cried, "I swear! Please!" Connor stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and stood next to Chris.

"How is it going?" He asked skeptically, his face twisting awkwardly.

"As well as you would expect." Chris muttered, "Gavin has just resorted to scaring the poor guy. He's not taking it very seriously."

"I wouldn't expect him to." Connor replied, grabbing a file sitting on the table. "Do we know who he is?"

"There wasn't any identification found on him, but he looks about 19 or 20. Seems like he might have some sort of mental disability. Isn't all there if you know what I mean. On top of that he won't speak to anyone."

"And I imagine Gavin isn't exactly being persuasive."

"Nope."

"Get him out of there." Connor ordered. Chris went over to the one-sided window, knocking twice on the glass. Gavin stood and faced the window. He threw up his hands in an irritated shrug.

"Fine!" He yelled, "I'm done with this bullshit anyways." He stormed out of the room, throwing the door open and slamming it behind him. When he entered the adjacent room, his face twisted into an angry scowl. Connor kept his demeanor as calm as possible.

"Morning Detective Reed."

"The hell are you doing here?" He scowled.

"It's my case." Connor replied, but Gavin ignored his response.

"Haven't you gotten enough detectives killed lately or are you just back for more?" Connor stood blankly for a moment, his L.E.D. switching to red for a brief second. "Hank's old drunken heart is struggling to beat on its own already without having to fish your plastic ass out of the lake. And after you botched that mission with…"

Connor watched as Gavin's face formed into a pained expression, looking to the floor for a moment. He brought his eyes back to Connor with a scowl.

"Let's just say I'm surprised you haven't been thrown into the damn dumpster." Gavin was trying to act tough, but Connor could hear his voice beginning to break. "If it were up to me, you'd pay for what happened to Parker, you fucking prick!" Gavin stepped forward, shoving Connor back into the table. At this point, Chris stepped forward, grabbing Gavin by the shoulders and escorting him out.

"Okay, Reed, cut it out." But there was pain in Chris's voice as well. He opened the door, his hand still on Gavin's shoulder. "Just..do your thing, Connor. I'll be back in a second."

Connor tried his best to shake off Reed's comments as he walked into the interrogation room. The suspect was still shaking, his forehead pressed against the table. His head lifted a little when he heard Connor enter the room. His face seemed to flush with embarrassment. Connor took the seat across from him, scanning his vitals.

"Hello." Connor greeted him softly. The suspect was silent. "Do you remember who I am?" The man nodded slowly.

"I...threw you into the river…" he admitted. "I...I'm sorry." He looked up and gazed around the room. "Where's the other man..?" He asked sheepishly.

"In the hospital." Connor responded grimly. The suspect seemed to grow visibly more upset at this news. "He's okay." Connor reassured. "It's just a precaution."

"Okay.." the suspect answered, "I just...I got mad...I'm sorry."

"I understand." Connor responded, "You were protecting yourself." The suspect nodded again in agreement. "My name is Connor." The android introduced himself. "What's your name?"

"Al…" he responded quietly.

"It's nice to meet you Al." Connor smiled warmly at him, trying his best to build trust with his suspect.

"Is...is that other man coming back?" He asked with a small hint of fear in his eyes.

"No..You won't have to see Detective Reed again. But I apologize on his behalf."

"It's okay…" Al reassured, holding his head a little higher, "He was just...loud." Connor nodded, pulling the case file across the table and in front of himself.

"I know Detective Reed was not particularly kind when he was in here with you, but he just needed some answers to a few questions. Do you think you can do that for me? Just answer a few questions?" Al looked at Connor at first with some hesitation, but after seeing the android's warm smile, he agreed.

""Yes…" He replied quietly, "I can do that."

Connor opened the case file in front of him, turning to a photograph of the park from one of the murders in Pontiac, where the bodies had been left in pristine condition rather than with the regulators torn out. He showed the picture of the lake to Al, being careful not to show him any of the more graphic pictures.

"Al, do you recognize this place?" He asked.

"N-no…" Al responded, his face twisting trying to figure out is it looked familiar. There was no lie in his eyes that Connor could see. Connor pulled out a file of the second Pontiac murder.

"What about this place?" He asked sliding the picture within Al's view. He shook his head again.

Next, Connor pulled one of the photos of the Detroit murders, specifically the lake where Connor and Hank had apprehended him.

"What about this place? Do you recognize it?" Al nodded slowly, "Okay good, could you tell me what you were doing here?"

"I…" he looked away from Connor with shame in his eyes. "I was trying to...get that android." He admitted.

"Is there a particular reason why?" He asked. But Al refused to , Connor brought up a picture of the area from the first crime scene Hank and Connor had visited and from the scene where the android had been killed by blunt force rather than drowning. "Do you recognize these places as well?" Al smiled brightly upon seeing the second crime scene.

"Yes!" He replied with excitement in his voice. He pointed to the second photo. "That's Winged Leaf park."

"Does that mean something to you?" Connor asked, sitting up attentively.

"It's my favorite park!" He exclaimed. "My father used to take me there as a child...sometimes I go there by myself too."

"What about the android that was there, Al? He was hit in the head? Then there were parts of him that were taken out. Do you know why?" Al frowned, bowing his head low.

"I...I thought that he might work…" he mumbled.

"Work for what?" Connor asked. "Did you think the android could replace something?" Al glanced frantically around the room, obviously troubled.

"I...I'm not supposed to…" his breathing became more shallow and quick as panic seemed to rush through him. Connor noticed a sudden spike in his heart rate.

"Al, I need you to speak to me. Whoever is behind this has done a very bad thing. And if you don't talk to me, I can't help you." Al just continued to shake his head, clenching his fists as he tried to control the wave of panic that was rushing over him. Connor put his hand out, touching Al's forearm lightly in an attempt to help him calm down. Al looked up at him slowly, his face twisted with painful fear as he tried to decide what to do. Connor realized that he must have been sworn to silence by whoever was using him. "Al, you don't have to say who."

Taking the keys from his pocket Connor stood from his seat and unlocked one of the restraints from his wrist before sitting back down. Al moved his hand around a little as the blood flow came back to it.

Connor emptied the case file, setting the papers aside and pushed a pen and the blank manila folder in Al's direction.

"I just need an address. Just so we can find the evidence." Al looked down at the folder, hesitating slightly. "We aren't going to hurt anyone." He added. Al looked to Connor, nodding, acknowledging that he trusted the android, and began to scribble an address onto the manila folder.

When he was finished, he passed the folder back to Connor.

According to his GPS, the location Al had given him was on the edge of Detroit, near Pontiac, apparently by a lake.

Al set his eyes on Connor as he read past the address.

Below the address was a single underlined word written in all capitals.

"LAYLA"


	11. Incompatible

"Incompatible"

Connor took Hank's car to the location Al had given him, which seemed to be in the middle of the forest. The sun had gone down for the night and there was no light pollution to brighten the forest. When he arrived at the small cabin on the edges of Detroit, he noticed that it looked like a part of the forest itself, surrounded by the lake and trees. The location was registered as abandoned, dismissing the detective's need for a warrant.

Connor's footsteps were quiet, save the slight crunching of the fresh snow beneath his shoes.

His back was pressed along the back walls of the cabin trying to find a way to sneak in through without disturbing whoever as living here, his gun drawn and ready to fire. It was eerily silent, and even the winter's wind was still. Connor's L.E.D. cycled yellow as he pondered the note Al had given him.

Layla

Possibly a partner or a code name Connor assumed, but whatever it was, Al had been too afraid to say it out loud.

"I should not be doing this alone…" Connor muttered under his breath, knowing that Hank would probably kick his ass if he found out.

Finding a back window, Connor holstered his gun and pressed his hands up against the glass, sliding it open slowly. It squeaked slightly as the panes moved past each other.

"Great…" Connor grimaced at the disturbing noise that seemed to pierce through the night's silence. He checked the see if the coast was clear before grabbed the edges of the window and swinging himself into the cabin. The floors squealed quietly under the weight of his feet.

The android removed his gun from the holster, making note to take lighter footsteps through the house, testing his steps carefully as he made his way to the main room.

The house was trashed with broken glass and metal parts surrounding the floors. Connor watched the floor carefully, trying not to trip on the scrap in his path.

On one side of the room, Connor found what he had been looking for. A large pile of about eight or nine thermal regulators, some intact while others had wires and thirium lines hanging from the edges.

Connor felt himself cringe visibly. How many victims had they missed? He approached the pile of biocomponents and scanned them.

Biocomponent #r2063

Several were taken from WR400 models but there were a few that were from other models, all of which were removed with pristine measures. All of which, however were completely nonfunctioning. Connor hadn't thought about the possibility of other compatible models with the same biocomponents.

Connor picked up one of the biocomponents to examine it further before spotting a pale blue light emanating from under the door of one of the rooms adjacent to the dark living room. He crept quietly to the other door, doing his best not to disturb the scattered metal pieces. The android reached the door and found the handle to be broken off. He cautiously pushed it open, letting the bright light spill though the living room.

In the room, Connor found what appeared to be a large glass chamber, with white lights filling the inside. It appeared to be handmade with the structure looking to be almost patchwork. Different tinted metals had been welded together near the base, connected to a large automated car battery that seemed to be powering it. Following a thermal scan, Connor found the inside temperature of the structure to be much warmer than the inside of the cabin.

"An incubator?" Connor muttered to himself, letting go of the door and allowing himself to get closer to the chamber.

Resting inside was a male android wearing nothing save a blanket that lay over his waist. His skin was completely removed with the plates of his abdominal cavity shifted L.E.D. was slowly pulsing a dull red. Connor felt his own L.E.D. shift to yellow and then back to blue with surprise at the site of the dying android.

He took a moment to scan the android, reading his model and serial numbers while running a diagnosis over him.

 _Model: WR400_

 _Serial Number: 423-093-173-65_

 _Diagnostic: WARNING! CRITICAL ERROR_

 _MISSING BIOCOMPONENT #r2063_

 _CENTRAL PROCESSING UNIT FAILURE_

Connor felt his heart sink slowly at the diagnostic, his L.E.D. shifting to yellow for a quick second. He placed his hand against the incubator, bowing his head slightly. He retracted the skin from his hand, attempting to hack the chamber open.

"Get away from there before I blow your fucking brains out." Came a voice from behind Connor. Keeping his gun behind his back, Connor slowly turned around to face the voice. A dark skinned female android stood in the doorway with a gun aimed at Connor, her L.E.D. pulsing deep red.

"Hello Layla." Connor greeted grimly, his eyes dull with grief on the android's behalf. He understood why she had been doing this. She lowered her gun with surprise.

"Shit… You're an android?" She asked, "How do you know who I am?"

"My name is Connor. I am with the Detroit Police Department." Layla's face paled as she brought her gun back to Connor's face

"The hell do you want, pig?" She growled. "How did you find me?"

"You know why I'm here Layla." Connor responded, "You can't keep doing this. I know what you're trying to accomplish but-"

"I asked how the hell you found me!" She exclaimed. Her face fell slightly. "You found Al didn't you?"

"He was arrested after being found trying to assault a model WR400 Android." Connor gestured to the incubator. "Much like your friend here." Layla's face became more twisted, and Connor could see her stress levels rising into the 70's

"What the hell did you do to him?!"

"Nothing! Nothing!" Connor reassured, trying to keep himself stable. "He's safe. We just had to bring him in for questioning. I made sure no one would harm him." Layla's stress fell a bit, but her gun was still aimed at Connor. "Listen Layla," he spoke with a slightly sterner tone. "I need you to come with me back to the station. If you come quietly, I can explain your side and hopefully lower whatever sentence the judge will have for you."

"Why would I come with you when I can just execute you right now?" She asked, a dark flame in her eyes.

"You don't want the assault of a police officer on your record as well, Layla. If you hope to get out-"

"If you think the criminal justice system is going to hear my side of things, you're wrong." Layla interrupted. "Things may be different since the revolution, but nothing's really changed. Humans are still nothing but bigoted pieces of shit, and that's all they'll ever be."

"What about Al?" Connor asked, " You seemed fond of him yourself. And he was willing to do anything you asked of him, including murdering innocent androids."

"I never asked him to do anything!" Layla defended, "He just wanted to help…" she trailed off before bringing her attention back to the android. "The hell do you think you are acting like you understand my life?! You don't understand shit!"

"I understand why you and Al have been murdering these androids." Connor stated, "You've been trying to find a replacement thermal regulator for your friend, in hopes that his body will begin to maintain his own core temperature without you needing to incubate him."

"It wasn't even my original intention…" she muttered, "Kaleb was stabbed in the chest by some anti-android fuckers and then thrown into a lake a few months ago...if Al hadn't been there passing through, he might have frozen to death right there...but he jumped in to save him without a second thought. After that he grew attached to me, helped me try and keep Kaleb stable." Layla smiled bitterly at the memory. "I just wanted to repair his original one...but I couldn't. It lasted on its own for a little while, giving enough time for me to engineer an incubator to keep him warm enough...but he's been comatose ever since his thermal regulator shut down."

"So you started murdering others of the same model in the same fashion your brother died. And in the meantime you tried to find a compatible biocomponent?"

"No!" Layla shouted. "Well...not originally. I didn't trust a human technician to save Kaleb… but I didn't have the heart to open the incubator…" her eyes fell to the floor sadly. "But when Al found another WR400 model walking through his favorite park, he didn't think twice about it before shutting him down. He'd seen me retract Kaleb's skin before, and tried to do it himself...God when he brought that android's regulator to me...I about kicked him out."

"But you thought it might actually work."

"If removed properly… I thought it might…but...nothing is compatible." Her face turned to the pile of dead components while Connor's hand tightened around his gun.

"Layla, the thermal regulators aren't what's incompatible." Connor admitted sadly. Layla looked back to Connor, a strong spike in her stress levels making itself present. She aimed the gun in between Connor's eyes, silently daring him to say something else.

"The fuck are you talking about?" She asked, her eyes narrowing, trying to feign confidence as her L.E.D. gave her fear away.

"The regulators are completely compatible. Biocomponent #r2063. And you can read that when you scanned Kaleb's." Layla was silent. "Layla, what kind of android are you?" He asked calmly.

"Engineering." She responded, "Worked in plants for automated construction. What's it to you?"

"Can you run medical diagnostics on androids other than yourself?"

"No…" She spoke softly, her stress rising again. "Why?" Her voice trembled slightly, fearing the news this new android brought her.

"Because...Kaleb isn't comatose because of a damaged thermal regulator." He admitted, traces of pity in his voice. "Yes, it was damaged, and it can cause an android to shut down if left untreated, but it should have been an easy fix when you replaced the biocomponent. But all your parts mysteriously burned out when they were installed."

Layla looked to Connor silently with tears filling underneath her eyes, as if to ask him why.

"Kaleb's central processing unit was destroyed during the altercation. And without a proper processing unit, his body can't accept new parts. It can't even acknowledge that they are there, and the biocomponents burn out trying to function on their own." Layla's gun was now lowered, no longer aiming at Connor. Her stress had rising up to 94% as the realization of Connor's words hit her, and they seemed to take her breath away

"I...no…" She whispered quietly, her hands trembling.

"Layla, Kaleb has been braindead for a long time now...All you're doing now is keeping his body alive."

"That's not…" Her eyes fell to the incubation chamber and onto Kaleb's dull L.E.D. and the sudden truth finally fell onto her heart. She walked past Connor,placing her free palm up against the glass of the chamber, retracting the artificial skin from them. "Kaleb…" Her voice broke into a pained sob, as she reiterated his name. Her hand closed into a fist and slid down the glass as her legs gave out from under her.

While she was on the floor, Connor approached her and gently took the gun from her hand, tucking it under his belt. Layla was now on her knees, bringing her hands close to her chest and bowing her head low as she cried.

Connor got down on one knee, placing a hand on her shoulder and retracting the skin from it.

"Layla...you have to open the incubator now…"

"N-no…" she sobbed quietly. "I...I can't… I can't do that, please."

"Layla, you have to be the one to do it…" Connor pleaded, "I can open it if you really want me to...But it should be you." Layla nodded slowly through her tears, realizing what Connor was trying to say. "Here, let me help you up." Connor slipped his arm under Layla's waist, helping her to her feet. She stood over the glass panels, the light illuminating her tearstained face. She placed her hand on one of the interface panels, retracting the skin from it again, and took a deep breath. Retracting his own skin, Connor placed his hand on top of hers, and the panel's slid open.

Within a few minutes, Kaleb's already dull L.E.D. began to lose even more color, eventually fading to nothing.

Layla stood over his body, sobbing openly, as Connor took her hands and gently cuffed them behind her back.

"Let's go Layla." he said softly, leading the android out of the cabin and out into the cold, snowladen night, and escorted her into Hank's car.

* * *

When Connor and Layla arrived at the station, they were greeted by a familiar face. No longer cuffed himself and being escorted by Chris, Al sat happily sketching a picture on a small notepad given to him by the officer. He looked up, first seeing Connor, much to his delight. But when he spotted the android next to him, his face lit up and he dropped the notebook onto the floor, running up to embrace her.

"Layla!" Al cried out, holding the android in a tight hug.

"Heya big guy…" Layla said softly, laying her head against his chest as she couldn't hug him back. Connor approached Chris, curious as to why Al was suddenly going free.

"What's going on, Chris?" Connor asked, "Is he not being held here?" Chris shook his head.

"Turns out the poor guy has been missing for months. His family is coming to pick him up."

"What about the trial?" Connor asked.

"He's mentally handicapped and reports are already saying he was tricked by an android into destroying other androids. Can't be held accountable for his actions in the eyes of the law."

"But Layla will." Connor responded grimly. Chris nodded, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Someone has to pay for it."

"Yes…" Connor agreed, "It's just a shame that it's not the people who were initially responsible…"

Chris and Connor watched as the android and the human sat hugging each other in the middle of the precinct, likely to never see the other again.

* * *

Hank sat in his bed, his second morning in the hospital, watching Detroit's baseball team kick Milwaukee's ass. He laughed quietly to himself as the opposing team's batter struck himself out on curveballs.

"Eat ass, Jenkins!" Hank yelled at the television, "Why don't you go back to fucking little league, asshole? They'll praise your struck out ass over there! That's right! Get off the fucking field!"

Hank heard a soft knock against his door.

"Yeah yeah, come in." He grumbled slightly, refusing to move his eyes from the screen. Connor cautiously pressed the door open and stepped into the room. Hank glanced over at the android for a second before turning back to his game.

"Oh hey, Connor." He remarked, "I thought you were some godforsaken nurse coming to stick me with needles or comment on my 'not-so-perfect' health."

"I will admit," Connor sighed, taking a seat next to Hank and crossing his arms as he gazed at the television. "Trying to make a constructive effort to inform you about your health is about as useful as asking Sumo not to get on the couch."

"Damn straight." Hank replied, "I've been doing the same shit for 50 years, and if you think I'm gonna stop now just because I'm a little _closer_ to death than I was…" He chuckled bitterly, "Well then, my friend, you're dumber than you look. How was your case?" Connor sighed gently.

"It was...rough.."

"Oh yeah? Catch the guy behind it?"

"Girl." Connor responded, "Just another android trying to repair her friend."

"Huh." Hank replied, clearly uninterested. "And what about the jackass we caught down at Dula?"

"They let him go free. Turns out it's hard to convict a mentally handicapped individual with breaking machines.."

"What?" Hank asked, sitting up rather suddenly, "That bastard nearly killed you! He nearly killed both of us!"

"He never directly attacked you, Hank." Connor replied solemnly, "And you're the official detective in this duo."

"That's a load of horseshit if I've ever fucking heard it!" Hank swore, frustrated by Connor's attempted murderer being allowed to go free. "This damn world loses hope every damn day." Hank turned back for a moment before letting out a loud cry. "OH GODDAMMIT!" Connor turned around, his L.E.D. flashing yellow for a moment.

"What is it, Hank?!" He cried, "Are you in pain? Should I call the nurse?"

"No, no!" Hank waved his hand dismissively at Connor. "Just fucking Mcleary seems to have forgotten how to CATCH A DAMN BALL!" Connor frowned with slight annoyance as he realized that Hank's exclamation was nothing more than a reaction to his game.

"Ah fuck it." Hank swore, grabbing a remote and switching the television off. "They're playing a shit season anyways."

"Well, it could be due to the fact that their entire city was evacuated for a good few months." Connor smirked at the detective. "Revolutions can cause horrible delays for practice."

"Hey, shut the fuck up why don't you." Hank groaned, "My head hurts enough without your goofy ass voice making smart assed comments about my damned team. Just wait, we'll get you into a sport soon enough and then watch how you feel when their asses get kicked. How about you become a fucking Yankees fan? That would be the icing on this shit cake."

"Seeing as Detroit and New York are known for their ongoing rivalry, I can agree that it would become very interesting during playoffs."

"Yeah that's the fucking- Ah nevermind…" Connor laughed slightly at Hank's expense.

"I wonder if androids would be good at baseball."

"I'm pretty sure they disqualify you if you're made of the same shit as the bats."

"Very funny, Lieutenant."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

This chapter was actually based on some personal issues in my own life. Coming in November it will mark two years since my best friend went comatose after struggling with some unknown issues in her brain. An autoimmune disorder ended up eating her brain away to the point that doctors informed us that if she ever woke up again, she would never be able to properly function.

I know that issues with braindead or comatose patients can be controversial, but after a few years of this, its hard to feel morally okay with the fact that whether she can feel it or not, she is still being forced to live like this simply because of her loved ones holding onto a hope that isn't there.

Despite this, I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter! It was definitely fun to write. Thank you all so much for the support and love you've given this story!


	12. False Lead

"False Lead"

"God dammit Chris! Hold him down!" Hank exclaimed, grabbing the clearly inebriated man around the waist. trying to prevent him from knocking ay more objects off of the desks in the precinct. His hands and shirt were stained with blue blood.

"I am holding him down!" Chris retorted, grabbing the man by the legs, and trying to reach for a pair of handcuffs.

"Piss off y'damn pigs!" "The man slurred, stumbling with the two officers clinging to his extremities, still violently flailing around, trying to free himself. "Issa free fucking country you…" The man doubled over, looking like he might throw up.

"You'd better fucking not, jackass!" Hank yelled, grabbing his neck and forcing the man's head down. "I don't get paid enough to deal with shit like this."

"Free country doesn't give you the right to assault an android." Chris said through gritted teeth as he tried to fight back against the man's struggling. "O-or a police officer!"

"So what, I hurt a piece of plastic. You gonna charge me with littering?"

"Shut it asshole!" Hank yelled from behind. "You really want resisting arrest on your record as well? Because it's getting pretty lengthy."

Almost in response, the man reered his legs back, striking Chris in the face and knocking him off his legs.

"Okay, that's it cock sucker!" Hank responded infuriated, kicking the man behind his knees and bringing him to the floor. Holding his hand tightly over his damaged and bloody nose, Chris trembled, handing Hank the cuffs with his free hand. Hank cuffed the man and gave him to another beat cop to take him into a cell to sober up.

The man stumbled around for a bit before catching sight of Connor, who was in the corner, taking care of and trying to retrieve a statement from him.

"You...fuckin' machines!" He tore himself from the officer's grip and threw himself at Connor and the damaged android. Connor stood up from the floor, allowing the drunk man to throw himself directly into the floor, smashing his face on the linoleum tiles. Connor found himself stifling a chuckle, his face staying at an awkward smirk.

The officer ran back to collect the man, who was now vomiting violently on the floor.

"Oh that's just fucking great.." Hank grimaced, stepping over the man's prostate form, and offering his hand to help Chris up off the floor. "Shit…" he responded lightly, "That bastard got a pretty good shot atcha huh?"

"It's not as bad as it looks." Chris reassured, wiping the blood from his nose with his sleeve. "Hurts like a bitch though.."

On the other side of the room, Connor was trying to help the panicked android off of the floor, his hands still stained with his own thirium.

The android had run into the precinct after being attacked by the drunken individual on the street. The man had followed him in moments after, wreaking havoc throughout the precinct and causing quite a few disturbances.

"We're gonna let you see the precinct's technician, Jacob." Connor reassured, "Thank you for giving me your statement. We're gonna make sure that your attacker is taken care of." The android nodded as another officer took him by the shoulder and walked him back to the technican's office. Connor's L.E.D. spun yellow for a moment before returning to blue. Hank returned to his desk where Connor was standing and reached out and put his hand on the android's shoulder.

"He'll be alright. You know how Jordan is. One of the best technicians in Detroit. He's patched you up more than a few times." He laughed bitterly.

"I'm not worried about that android, Hank." Connor answered, "It's just...Detroit was supposed to be a sanctuary for androids and deviants...It was evacuated but when humans were allowed to return it's like nothing changed." Hank sighed heavily, grabbing Connor's shoulder and bringing him back to his desk to finish the report and record the android's statement.

"That's just humans for you, kid." He admitted, "It takes them a while to adapt to change and accept it as reality." He grabbed the cup off coffee from his desk and took a sip of it, before grimacing in disgust and setting the cup back down. Connor smirked at him.

"Cold?" He asked. His question was met with a heavy sigh.

"Again."

"Would you like me to get you more?" Connor offered. Hank shook his head and sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

"Nah, you're not my fucking secretary. The shit here is cheap anyways." Suddenly, Connor's L.E.D. flashed yellow rapidly as a report came through his head. Hank looked over his desk to the terminal on Connor's. "What was that?" He asked sitting up curiously. "We got a new case already?"

"Armed robbery of a convenient store of fifth." Connor responded nonchalantly. "A bystander claimed that one of the men was bleeding thirium."

"Of course he did." Hank retorted sarcastically. "Isn't that usually the response nowadays when someone commits a crime?" Hank stood from his chair, grabbing his jacket from the back of it. Connor stayed unmoved, typing at his terminal.

"What? You too good to investigate robberies now?"

"No…" Connor responded, hardly paying attention to Hank's comments, "I'm going to finish this report and walk that android in Jordan's office home. I just want to make sure he gets home safe." Hank shrugged his shoulders and logged off of his computer.

"Fair enough, " Hank responded, "This shouldn't take too long anyways. Call me when you're done with all that and I'll meet you in town to discuss whatever we find at the scene, alright?"

"Of course, Lieutenant." Connor didn't even look up from the work on his desk. Hank gave the android a look, not exactly appreciating Connor's dismissive attitude, even if he was in a work setting.

"Alright whatever." He muttered, shrugging it off and walking out to his car.

* * *

Once Connor had finished writing up his report on the android's assault, he made his way to Jordan, the precinct's technician, and stepped into his office.

The android Jacob that had been attacked was sitting on the edge of Jordan's exam table, topping off a bottle of thirium that had been given to him in order to replenish his blood loss. Jordan had his long black hair pulled back in a bun as he worked on the android who was now slightly less panicked.

His healing program had already kicked in and was beginning to repair the worst of his wounds.

Jordan, on the other hand, was doing his best to pick out the shards of glass that had been embedded in Jacob's abdomen, likely from a liquor bottle.

"How are you doing?" Connor asked, leaning up against the door frame.

"I've been better.." The android admitted. "Thank you for trying to help me out though." Connor nodded, looking to Jordan for any important information.

"His healing program is repairing most of the damage, but I would advise him to keep his abdomen covered where the majority of the damage was done. I've already dressed it but it may need to be replaced." He said to Connor, sitting back and peeling the latex gloves from his hands. He nodded at Jacob, scratching his thick beard. "It will help prevent any foreign material from entering your wound while it heals."

"Thank you." The android responded, standing from the exam table and facing Connor.

"I'd like to escort you home if you don't mind, Jacob." Connor offered. "I'd just like to know you made it there safely." Jacob nodded in response.

"That's fine. I'd probably feel a bit better as well."

Connor took a small bundle of supplies from Jordan to help Jacob treat himself over the next few days, and the two androids waited outside the precinct as Connor called an automated taxi.

* * *

When the two androids finally arrived at Jacob's apartments, the other Android thanked the detective for escorting him before returning to his home.

Connor stood on the street as the taxi doors closed behind him and sped off on its own route. The android pulled out his phone, a little bit surprised that Hank hadn't called or texted him yet.

Rather, Connor had received three missed calls from Captain Fowler. He exhaled heavily through his teeth, feeling a strong sense of dread as he dialed his chief back. He didn't exactly expect any good news.

"Hello?" Connor answered as the Captain's receiver picked up, "Captain Fowler, sorry I couldn't pick up sooner."

" _Connor, thank God!"_ Fowler's voice had a strange sense of relief to it. " _Are you alright? Where the hell are you?"_

"I am fine captain.." Connor answered, confused and shaken by his captain's very panicked response. "I was simply escorting the android who was assaulted by the inebriated human from earlier. Is something wrong?"

" _Connor you need to get off the street and somewhere safe, We're trying to get Witness Protection on the line but-"_

"Witness Protection?" Connor interrupted, in a slight panic as his L.E.D. flashed yellow. "Hold on, Captain. What's going on?"

" _I just got off of the phone with one of the FBI agents from Parker Jareau's specialized team."_ Connor felt his heart sink slightly.

"What did they say?" Connor asked, pushing past the pain in his voice,

" _The man known as Cyrus O'Sullivan has escaped from one of the high security facilities that he was being held in, and they're afraid he's going to come after you. We're trying to arrange to get you somewhere safe."_ Connor blinked, his L.E.D. cycling yellow as he tried to process the name.

"I'm sorry captain, that name isn't familiar to me, and why does this affect me in any way?"

" _He was the Ringleader in the group of mercenaries you and Jareau took down about a month ago. He was known there under the codename 'Scarver.'"_ Connor nearly dropped his phone at the realization. Scarver...the man responsible for killing Agent Jareau.

"What the hell?!" Connor exclaimed, noting the obvious change in the pitch of his voice, "How did he escape? Where was he last seen?"

" _Most likely it was an inside job, a prison guard or someone else that might have been associated with the Bucs while they were still around. No one has seen him but the facility wasn't too far from Detroit."_ Connor was still trying to process this information, his L.E.D. cycling between red and yellow, keeping his stress as low as he could on his own.

But his levels were beginning to rise as he looked down at his hands, and reality began to slip away in his mind, disconnecting the android from the world around him.

The feel of human blood between his fingers

The echoing of distant gunfire

It had been a month, how could this be happening?

" _Connor, I am ordering you to come back to the precinct now. You're the guy that put this bastard away in the first place, and no doubt he'll be coming after you."_

"Okay, okay!" Connor responded defensively, trying to hide the fear and anxiety in his voice. "Let me call Hank first and le him know what's going on. He's out working our case right now."

" _What are you talking about, Connor?"_ Fowler exclaimed, " _There hasn't been any cases assigned to you and Hank this morning."_

"No, I received a report this morn-" But Connor fell silent as the slow realization hit him. A false lead.

His L.E.D. began cycling red as the gravity of this situation hit him. That report had been a trap set for Connor.

"Shit…" He cursed under his breath, taking the phone from his ear.

" _Connor, what the hell is going on? Connor? Connor answer me!"_ Connor looked down at his phone as the vibrating alerted him of an incoming call from disconnected his call with the captain and brought the phone back to his ear.

"H-Hank?"

* * *

Hank arrived at the convenient store on the corner of fifth avenue, following Connor's directions from the report. To his surprise, there didn't seem to be any sort of investigation started. No other officers had arrived on scene. In fact, the store itself seemed unnaturally quiet considering what had happened.

"Huh…" Hank muttered to himself. "I don't guess I'm actually _early_ for once in my life." He stuck his hands in his pockets and made his way towards the store. However, when he tried to open the door, he was met with the resistance of the door's lock.

"The fuck..?" He mumbled, knocking twice against the glass to no avail. He peered through the door to see if there was anyone inside, but to his surprise, the lights were all completely out.

When he looked to his right, he spotted a sign that seemed to bring more questions than answers.

 **AVAILABLE FOR RENT**

The red and white sign stated in big bolded letters.

"Did someone really call an armed robbery on an _abandoned_ property or is this just a fucking joke?" He asked himself, exhaling through his teeth.

He turned back to get in his car, pulling out his phone to call Connor about the false alarm.

"Hey!" A voice called out from behind in a hushed whisper, "Are you Detective Anderson?" Hank jerked his head around, walking back towards the store where he thought he heard his name called.

"Yeah..?" Hank answered warily, looking around, a bout of anxiety swelling in his chest. "What's it to you?"

Suddenly, the detective felt the cold metal of a gun barrel against the back of his head as an unknown figure stepped out of the alleyway. He instinctively raised his hands above his head, his heart stopping for a moment. He could almost feel his assailants grin against his face.

"Good…" the voice responded coldly, pulling back the hammer of his gun. "I need your help."


	13. On the Table

"On the Table"

Hank kept his raised hands steady, exhaling sharply out of his nose before planning his next step. The strange man had grabbed him by the neck of his jacket and had pulled him calmly into the alley and out of sight of any bystanders.

"Typically I'm more inclined to do favors when there's not a gun to my head." Hank admitted, trying to talk his assailant down. "Why don't you help me out and I'll see what I can do for you, alright?" He assumed that whoever this man was, probably needed a legal favor or was just looking for money or drugs. He did his best to talk him off this metaphorical cliff.

"Uh huh?" Hank could hear a sneer in his voice as the attacker saw straight through Hank's plan. "You really have no idea who I am do you?" Hank tried to play his responses around the question.

"Someone looking for help." He responded carefully, "And I'm someone who can help you out. So just put the gun away and we can talk this out like adults, alright pal?" His attacker's voice was calm and professional, which caused the detective to wonder if this really was just a junkie.

"I appreciate the efforts detective, but I'm sure you're aware that _I'm_ the one with control over this situation." He tapped the back of Hank's head with the gun as a reminder. "If you're trying to play a mind game with me, I have to remind you that you will be inclined to play by my rules."

"Okay, alright." Hank added, playing along, as he tried his best to keep his erratic breathing steady. "That's fair, buddy. What is it you want?"

"Where is your partner?" He asked, his voice dropping low. Hank paled slightly, realizing what this man was _really_ after.

"I don't have a partner." Hank bluffed, feigning confidence. "I haven't worked with a partner since I was a beat cop on a specialized drug task force."

 _Not a human partner at least_ , he added to himself.

"Now is not the time to lie to me, Detective." Hank sensed some tension in the man's voice, "You wouldn't even be here if your partner hadn't received my faulty cybernetic report."

"Listen buddy," Hank started, becoming more frustrated and defensive at the mention of Connor. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about or who you think I am, but you've got the wrong detective. I don't have a fucking partner."

"Alright detective." The man replied, finally agreeing to Hank's arguments. "If that's the case then I'm sure you won't mind me checking up on that." He reaches his hand into Hank's jacket pocket and pulled out his small cell phone.

"Hey!" Hank exclaimed, nearly turning around before remembering the gun at the back of his head.

"Let's see your recent calls, Detective." The man began scrolling through Hank's phone, causing the detective's heart to sink with horror. "Interesting…" he replied, his voice lifting slightly. "There really only seems to be one consistent number in your recents, Detective." The man held out the phone where Hank could see it, revealing Connor's contact information. Hank grimaced, the pain in his face becoming quite noticeable.

"Who are you?" Hank growled.

"Call the number Detective." He ordered, his voice growing much harsher.

"Just tell me what you want, whatever it is I can get it for you!"

"I _want_ you to call that number, Lieutenant Anderson." Hank felt his fists tighten. "Call it and tell him to come to this location."

"Why the hell would I do that?!" Hank asked, his voice growing panicked. "What are you going to do? Fucking shoot him?!"

"You're going to do this for me...because if you don't, I'll shoot you anyways and call Connor from your phone to retrieve your dead body." He brought his face close to Hank's, whispering in his ear. "Either way I get what I am looking for." Hank shut his eyes, breathing heavily as the man placed the cell phone in his hand. "I won't hesitate to shoot you Lieutenant, I promise you this isn't a bluff." He laughed bitterly. I've done it before…"

Hank grew pale as the cold glass touched his finger tips.

"Put the speaker on and dial the number." He ordered, his voice falling to nothing but a whisper. And remember Lieutenant," he reminded, clucking the safety off of his gun. "I will be listening."

Hank dialed the phone number, his hands still trembling and his face growing hot with anxiety and put on the speakerphone, holding the phone out flat in his hand.

It rang for a moment and then the receiver picked up.

" _H-Hank?"_

* * *

The other end of the phone was silent save Hank's erratic breathing.

Connor stood waiting for the detective's response, his L.E.D. blinking rapidly between yellow and red. Connor took a deep breath, preparing to call Hank's name again before the detective responded.

" _C-Connor."_ Hank's voice responded, sounded choked and faint. " _Heh...hey kid.."_

"Hank, what's going on?" Connor asked, grabbing the phone with both of his shaking hands as he brought it closer to his face. He quickly called for backup at Hank's location. "Are you o-"

" _Connor, listen."_ Hank interrupted. Connor went silent. Hank's voice seemed full of pain and almost sounded dead. The android realized that something was wrong. " _You're a great detective, son, and watching you since that first day...I...I've realized just how goddamn proud of you I am."_

"H-Hank..Hank I don't understand." Connor felt his voice break as he pleaded with his partner to explain what was going on. "W...why are you talking like this?"

Was he too late?

" _Connor, please. I need you to do just one thing for me."_

"Hank, what is it?" Connor asked, his voice trembling as his frightened eyes filled with tears.

" _Stay the fuck away from here, Connor!"_ Hank exclaimed, rapidly trying to convey his warning before being cut off. " _No matter what happens just stay the fuck away from here! Do you hear me Co-"_

Hank's voice was cut short by a loud thud followed by a groan.

"Hank?!" Connor exclaimed, his voice giving out as he tried to stop himself from dropping the phone.

* * *

Hank grabbed onto his aching head, gritting his teeth as his skull began to throb from behind struck in the head with his attacker's gun.

"Argh...Goddamit…" he groaned, curling up around himself as his hands shook.

He opened his eyes partially, enough to see the faint blur of the man's salt-and-pepper hair. He chuckled bitterly and shook his head at the fallen detective and picked up his phone from the pavement.

* * *

" _Hello? Connor? Are you still there?"_ The cold, yet charismatic voice called. Connor felt his very heart grow cold as he lost his breath. The voice was so terrifyingly familiar that Connor felt he had been completely ripped away from reality and was dropped in another one of his nightmares.

"Y-you.." Connor spoke in a faint whisper. As his voice broke tearfully.

" _I hate that it had to happen this way, Connor. I really do. That report was meant for you, but your little partner just happened to show up instead much to my surprise."_

"W..what do you want?" He asked hoarsely.

" _Well, Connor, let me put a quick offer on the table for you."_ Scarver responded. Connor could hear the oh so smug tone in his cruel voice. " _It's you or him. That's all I have to offer."_ Connor shook his head in panic.

"Why..? Why are you doing this?"

" _I don't have time to argue with you, Connor. When you make up your mind, come to the location I originally gave you."_ Scarver paused for a moment as Connor's mind raced with panic.

" _And...just in case you need a little bit of incentive to move your feet…"_ he added. There was a pause.

 _BANG_

 _BANG_

Two shots were fired from Scarver's gun.

"Hank? HANK?!" Connor stood in shock for a moment. Then the line went dead. And everything around him was silent.

Connor stood, tottering on his own feet for a moment as a wave of shock hit him, leaving him almost paralyzed.

He couldn't speak.

He couldn't move.

His eyes burned.

His body trembled

Then, his fingers lost their grip and all of his blood seemed to rush back to his legs as Connor fought hard against the horror.

 _Not this time_

Connor dropped the phone on the hard pavement, causing the glass to smash across the sidewalk, and the android took off running as fast as he could.

 _Not again_


	14. Victim of Opportunity

"Victim of Opportunity"

Connor sprinted down the streets of Detroit as quickly as his feet could carry him.

Everything around him was deathly silent save the beating of his own thirium pump and an absent ringing deep within his ears.

His footsteps seemed to fall slowly and silently as if all of the gravity around him had been switched off.

Echoing gunshots continued to pound through his head.

BANG*

Parker

BANG*

Hank

Was this even real? Everything felt so fabricated. Connor couldn't even feel his body as it moved light lightening through the city. This couldn't possibly be real.

Then as the first raindrops of a fresh storm began to fall against Connor's face he slowed down for a moment. The cool touch of the rain and the sweet smell of the storm filled his senses, and for a moment, Connor felt like reality had returned.

Connor felt his hands reach for his own weapon subconsciously as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to pull away from whatever surreal dream he seemed stuck in. This living nightmare.

This was real. Hank was out there, hurt, dying maybe. Connor picked up his speed, past what he thought was possible, as he pushed past crowds of people and ran straight through incoming traffic. The sounds of blaring car horns and screeching tires never phased him or slowed him down.

He ran towards the street corner of the abandoned convenience store, allowing the oncoming rain to pour through his dark hair and down his face, soaking his clothing. He could hear the sound of sirens blaring as Connor's backup raced him to Hank's location. He felt a bout of anxiety swell up in the pit of his stomach. If Connor could hear them coming, then Scarver could too. He knew the ringmaster would run.

Connor arrived on the street corner, soaking wet with his gun drawn and ready in case Scarver was still lurking about despite the sounds of the first responders.

"Hank?" Connor called out warily as the rain began to pour down more violently. There was no answer. The android felt his heart sink significantly. What if it was too late? Connor spotted the abandoned convenience store where the false report about the armed robbery was called in. He began to make his way towards the store, knowing that Hank couldn't be far from it.

"Lieutenant if you can hear me say something!" There was still no answer. As Connor approached the store, he noticed that the concrete below him started to turn an unusually red color as something was being washed out of the alley. He bent over the puddle for a moment, scanning the substance.

Connor grimaced as his suspicions were confirmed. Human blood.

He stood up from his place on the ground, following the trail of watered down blood with his eyes. The color became significantly darker as it led back to the alley.

"Hank?" Connor called out again. Connor clicked the safety off of his gun, aiming it at the ground as he stepped carefully into the alley. There, lying prostrate on the ground was his partner, lying motionless in his own blood as the slowly growing puddle was washed away by the rainfall.

"Oh my god...Hank!" Connor cried out in fear, running to his partner's side and flipping him on his back to assess the damage, putting his head in his lap. There were two wounds in his lower abdomen, that were bleeding profusely and staining the torn shirt he wore. He pulled off his uniform jacket, tearing open his partner's shirt and pressed it hard against the open wound. Much to Connor's relief, the detective shuddered in response to the pressure.

"H-hank! Stay with me, okay! Everything's alright detective." Connor tried his best to keep his voice steady and hopeful, but his partner's chances were growing slimmer as he continued to bleed out. "There are first responders making their way here now. Can you hear the sirens, Lieutenant?"

"C-co-"

Hank gasped at the sharp hot pain as he tried to take a breath. Connor had to hold him still against the ground as his body instinctively curled around itself.

"Don't move!" He yelled, a little bit too harshly. He grabbed onto his partner's hand with his free one, allowing the Lieutenant something to hold onto through the pain. "Just stay awake, okay Lieutenant?" Connor begged quietly, as he tried to keep his partner stable. His chances of survival were dropping lower as his heart rate began to decrease. "Shit…" He swore silently to himself as his own stress began to rise past critical levels. His partner's blood was staining his already soaked dress shirt.

"C-connor p-please.." Connor just shook his head, pressing harder to try and stop any major bleeding.

"Don't try to speak, Lieutenant!" Connor warned, "You have to j-just focus on staying awake." Connor squeezed his partner's hand as the approaching sirens blared louder.

"H..he's after y-you…" Hank groaned, "I..wasn't g-going t-to let him…"

"I know…" Connor whimpered quietly, "I-I know you weren't…you just wanted to protect me." Connor's voice broke as he tried keep his fear from showing.

Hank began coughing and choking on the blood that was filling the back of his throat.

"Hold on.." Connor felt tears filling the rims of his eyes. "You're gonna be okay…" Connor began to feel Hank's grip on his hand loosening as the detective began to lose consciousness.

"No!" Connor cried out, "Lieutenant, don't! Stay awake! That's an order!" Connor squeezed his partner's hand tighter, trying to get a response.

"I-I…" Hank started weakly, "I-I...I'm proud of y-you, s-son…" The detective's head lolled to the left as he lost all consciousness.

"Hank? Hank!" Connor lost all of his composure, breaking down over his partner's body. "Please! God no!" He sobbed openly as he felt himself push harder against Hank's abdomen. "Hold on please!"

"Please don't leave me alone…"

The sound of sirens grew louder in Connor's ears as his backup finally arrived.


	15. Hold On

"Hold On"

The android sat cradling his partner's body, hisL.E.D. flashing a steady pulse of red. His chest was heaving in broken convulsions as he struggled to keep himself from breaking down into full sobs. He could not sense a heartbeat. Not even faint. And yet he still couldn't move.

 _Do something Connor! He's about to die! No, he IS dying!_

Snapping back to his senses and swallowing his tears, Connor pulled his hands from the gunshot wounds and positioned his hands over the left side of the detective's bare chest, clasping his hands together and giving his partner a few hard, quick compressions as the ambulance slid itself into park by the side of the street.

An EMT had jumped out of the ambulance before the vehicle had even stopped itself, running up and moving next to the android.

"Give me the vital signs." The EMT ordered, huffing heavily, "You got a diagnostic?"

"He's gone into cardiac arrest!" Connor replied through struggled breaths as he continued the perfectly maintained compressions. "Compressions aren't helping. Pressure is 50/80 and dropping, bleeding is slowed but not controlled." He nodded, nudging Connor over as he began to take over the CPR.

"Apply pressure to the wounds again." He commanded, before turning his head and looking to another of the EMTs who was already opening the back of the ambulance and preparing for transport. "He's coding over here! Bring me the paddles and a backboard!" Within moments, a defibrillator was brought to the man, a, and he stopped the compressions, and placed over his chest for analyzation. Connor had moved to the other side and was applying pressure to the detective's wounds again, his jacket soaking itself with blood and the oncoming rain.

Two of the other emergency medical technicians prepared the backboards, handing the man tending Hank a towel to dry his chest with.

"Get him up out of the water!" He ordered, "Quickly!" The two other EMT's worked to lift the detective carefully from the puddle of water he lay in, placing him on the backboard to avoid electrocuting him or the technician. The technician rolled up his sleeves, wiping the water from his arms. He motioned for Connor to step back as he began frisking the paddles of the defibrillator together.

"Charging, 250!" He called before placing the pads against the detective's chest. "Clear!" He called as he administered the shock. Connor watched with widened eyes as his friend's back arched uncontrollably against the orange tinted board before settling back down to the ground with a hard thud.

He could taste the rain as it dripped from his mess of hair and down his pale face.

A second EMT who was operating the AED grabbed his wrist, checking for cardiac rhythm.

"Nothing, sir!" She replied grimly before turning up the voltage on the machine. With defiance in his eyes, the EMT began rubbing his paddles together a second time.

"Charging, 300!" He called out again, securing the paddles in his grip. Connor watched anxiously from behind the technicians, feeling almost sidelined as he gripped his soaking jacket. He felt as though his heart was being slowly ripped from him. He brought a hand to his chest as he tried to steady himself. He felt a strange wave of nausea fall over him. Could androids get sick? "Clear!"

The EMT struck Hank a second time, his back arching and falling spastically. The female EMT shook her head.

"No cardiac rhythm."

"He's losing blood quickly, we need to get this on the road!" The third EMT called out, who had taken over applying pressure to the gunshot wounds when the defibrillator wasn't in action.

"God damn it Chesney, I know that! Charging! 330!" The voltage was growing higher, and yet the detective wasn't responding to anything they were doing. The rain was starting to pour down harder, striking the pavement like tiny bullets. The EMT's worked to keep their patient as dry as possible despite the conditions. "Clear!" The words echoed blankly in Connor's head as the world seemed to fade in and out of focus.

 _Not again_

He found himself repeating over and over again as he grabbed his head and tried to push away the feelings of grief and fear that seemed to hit him in slow waves. It felt as if he had been there for hours just washing as his partner's watered down blood was washed through the storm drains.

"Last try…" he heard the EMT groan under his breath. "Charging! 360!"

The seconds seemed to pass like minutes as the android's heart stopped.

"Clear!"

A tehnician grabbed his wrist.

A second passed

Everything was silent.

The android squeezed his eyes shut, trembling as reality settled in and started to fade back into focus. He felt the dread hit him a bit harder now.

Hank was going to die.

Connor would be alone.

He watched carefully as the female EMT's face shifted grimly, her fingers feeling for some sort of pulse. She inhaled deeply and turned to the man with the defibrillator.

"We have cardiac rhythm. Weak, but it's there." The EMT exhaled silently. "His chances are still pretty low if we don't get him out of this storm."

"You heard her!" The head EMT called to his team, "We don't have much time! Let's go! Vickie, start a drip! 50 ccs of morphine. Chesney, help me load him up."

Connor felt as though he had been holding his breath for a year when he finally breathed his quiet sigh of bitter relief. His L.E.D. slowly started to cycle back to yellow. But in his heart, he realized that the easiest part was over...Hank's fight for life hadn't even started yet..

"You coming, Android?" The voice of the female EMT, Vickie, calling Connor snapped him out of his strange, surreal daze. He looked up at her as if just waking from a dream.

"W-what?" He asked, his own hoarse and choked voice catching him by surprise.

"Vickie, come on!" The head EMT called from the ambulance.

"The ambulance ride to the hospital!" Vickie cried out, more firmly this time. "If you're coming, get in now!" Coming to his senses, Connor processed what the EMT was telling him, hesitated for a moment, then picked up his friend's jacket, which had been thrown aside by himself, and then ran to the back of the vehicle as Vickie was closing the doors.

Connor watched as Chesney slipped an oxygen mask over Hank's paling face while an IV was being carefully placed in his arm.

"Alright boys, we got two gunshot wounds in the right lower quadrant! One entered the right iliac region, exiting towards the back. Doesn't seem to be any fragments. Second is in the right lumbar region, no exit wound. Most likely he's suffered damage to the lower intestines. Right now we need to stop the bleeding before he gets back to the operating theater. Ain't nothing they can do for if he bleeds out now!"

For the first time, Connor noticed how much blood Hank had actually lost. Blood on the floor, the gurney, in the street, on the hands of the emergency technicians. Even on Connor.

How many liters of blood does the human body hold?

Was it five?

How much of that had been spilt in the alley?

The irregular chirps from the detective's heart monitor pounded in Connor's head as the faint clamoring of the emergency technicians became muffled and fuzzy. His dazed eyes were focused solely on his partner.

"Y-you have to do something…" He spoke, his voice sounding dead and faint. "Anything…"

"I assure you, we're doing everything we can." A technician responded, more as a passing comment than a reassurance.

But Connor hadn't been speaking to the EMT's. In fact, his words were directed to his friend, quietly begging him to fight back against this.

"Hold on Hank…" Connor whispered hoarsely, "Just a little longer...please."

Reality came and went in small waves for Connor. At times it was so strong, Connor felt the need to stand up and begin swearing and pleading with the EMT's to do their job quicker, faster, more efficiently. And other times the android wondered if maybe it was all just a cruel, invasive dream, and barely responded at all.

* * *

The ride to the hospital had felt like a lifetime, and yet the trip was blurry, and seemed to be nothing more than a flash in Connor's mind.

When the speeding vehicle finally came to a stop at the back entrance of the hospital, the three technicians unloading quickly, practically running the gurney through the wide, glass doors of the emergency room.

Connor was the last to leave the vehicle other than the fourth member of the team, the driver. Connor watched the team scurry through the doors, his responses delayed and slow as if his brain was still struggling to catch up with what he was seeing. He pondered following the team, cocking his head to the side slightly as his L.E.D. began to cycle red again in confusion. However, when he tried to step forward towards the doors, an arm grabbed him firmly but gently by the shoulder.

"It won't do you no good to see 'em like that." The deep voice spoke. Connor hesitated for a moment turning his head to look at the man. It was the driver, a tall, heavy-set African-American man. His eyes were gentle, yet full of dull pity. Connor imagined this man must be nothing if not used to seeing others behaving this way. "It's best you let our boys do their jobs now." He felt as empathetic for the android as he could, given his grim familiarity with the subject.

"I…" Connor croaked, the words getting caught in his throat. He wasn't exactly sure what he was trying to say in that moment. The driver nodded slowly, closing his eyes and squeezing the android's shoulder lightly.

"Let me take you inside." The driver offered, leading Connor by the shoulder to the emergency surgery waiting room, sitting him down gently. He gave Connor one more squeeze on the shoulder before leaving to return to his shift.

* * *

Connor sat blankly for a moment. Unsure of how to respond to his current situation. He simply watched as the storm rolled through the medical center, following the paths of the raindrops as they streaked along the large stained glass windows.

Then when reached one of his brief moments of clarity, Connor remembered one horrifying thing he had forgotten during that entire ordeal. He reached to his pocket, looking for his phone.

With a sinking heart, the android realized that his cell phone was smashed to pieces in the middle of a Detroit sidewalk, probably lying in a puddle of rainwater by now. He grimaced slightly, his head low in shame as he approached the waiting room help desk.

"Can I help you with something sir?" Asked the android receptionist.

"Y-yes.." Connor began slowly, "C-could I borrow your phone for a moment? It's an emergency."

"Everything is an emergency here honey." The android replied calmly, pointing at the phone that was sitting plainly on the desk. Connor nodded to the girl before taking the phone and pressing the receiver to his ear, dialing the captain's number. He picked up in about two rings.

" _Hello? This had better be goddamned important!"_ Fowler's tense voice came from the other side of the line.

"C-captain Fowler…" Connor began, trying to speak through his own strangled voice. "It's Connor.."

" _Connor?! Oh for Christ's fucking sake, Connor!"_ Fowler's voice was a mixture of fury and relief, " _What the hell happened back there?! Why haven't you called back?! Where the hell even are you? You damned fucking android, when I get my hands on you.."_

"Captain, there's a lot to explain-" Fowler cut the android short.

" _You're damned right you have a lot to explain. Disobeying direct orders, hanging up on a superior, putting your own life and the lives of others at risk! Do you have any idea what I could do to you right now. There's a fucking madman out there looking for you right now, Connor! Why you're lucky I haven't suspended your ass right here and now as I stand!"_ The captain stopped only to take a breath of air. " _You and Hank better get your sorry asses back to this precinct immediately. I don't know where the hell you are or what the hell you think you were doing putting yourself on the line out there, but I swear on sweet Baby Jesus if-"_

"Captain." Connor addressed with a firm and direct tone. It was the android's turn to interrupt. "I am currently at the Smith and Ellis Medical Center. And it happens to be an emergency. Hank has been shot." Connor felt those last words nearly strangle themselves in his throat as he bit back tears.

" _What the hell…"_ Fowler's voice was quiet for the first time that afternoon. " _I'll be there in 15 minutes. You can explain yourself then."_ And then the line went silent, save the quiet buzzing of the dial tone.

Placing the phone back down in it's stand, Connor thanked the receptionist, but he did not return to his seat. Rather, he found himself pacing the floor of the waiting room impatiently. There was no way for him to know what was happening to Hank behind those doors. He felt his entire body tense up just thinking about it.

All of his grief and sorrow from almost 45 minutes ago had only been replaced with a constant, lingering fear and anxiety. He had felt afraid when he knew exactly was going on, but this. This waiting, knowing that nothing he could do would change what was going on wherever his partner was...This fear was so much worse. This...helplessness.

* * *

Captain Fowler arrived, not 10 minutes later to find the android pacing restlessly through the waiting room.

"Where is he?" Fowler asked impatiently, grabbing Connor by the base of his tie when he reached him. But Connor said nothing, simply staring at him with blank, dulled eyes. His expression caught the captain off guard. His face looked more weary and haggard than Fowler had ever seen before. He wasn't even aware Connor could _feel_ weary. Then, he noticed the android's plain white dress shirt, soaked with rainwater and salmon colored bloodstains with his own uniform jacket thrown over his shoulder. He noticed that Connor held a small bundle close to his chest as if he were protecting a child. It looked to be the faux leather jacket that Hank had worn so often, also stained with what was only assumed to be the detective's blood.

He looked like shit.

"Surgery." Connor responded plainly, making a limp gesture to the set of doors across from the waiting room. His voice sounded strangely monotonous, even for a machine.

"Connor what the hell happened?" Fowler asked, his voice softening as he saw the android's broken down state.

"Scarver…" He mumbled, not looking completely in touch with reality. "He...he sent me a case as a trap...but Hank answered instead…"

Connor suddenly remembered Scarver's words from weeks before that he had heard in a nightmare

 _I was aiming for you._

The trap had been set for him. And this time, there was no denying it.

It really should have been him.

"H-he ran when he heard the sirens."

Fowler could see relatively plainly that Connor was in far too much mental shock to properly recount anything that had happened. He retreated from his previous plan, realizing that his most important job right now was to get Connor back to normal. Or, at least, as normal as one could be following something like this. Hell, this _was_ normal. But he needed Connor to speak. He wondered to himself if android memories were affected or corrupted during moments of trauma as human memories were.

"Connor, I think we should step out of here for a moment, get you home to get some dry clothes and such." Connor would probably be safer home than he was here anyways. Especially if Scarver found out that Hank was still alive and fighting.

"Go home?" Connor's expression changed to that of a distressed child. "I don't want to leave him." Connor pulled back Hank's jacket defensively from Fowler, as if the captain might attempt to take it from him.

"Connor, Hank is going to be in there for at least a few hours. You can be back here before the surgery is even over." Connor gave his captain a doubtful glance. "He's in the best place he can be right now, and whether you're here or not isn't going to change that." Connor knew that the captain was right, but some part of him was incredibly hesitant to leave the hospital knowing that Hank was still there, probably lying with his stomach torn open while doctors frantically tried to fish out the lost bullet and stitch his intestines back together. Human hands were so clumsy. So flawed.

Connor felt himself visibly shudder at the thought.

"Please Connor, just let me take you home for a few minutes, change clothes, feed Hank's dog, then I can take you right back here."

Connor's thoughts then turned to Sumo. The hour was nearing five in the afternoon and Sumo probably hadn't been let out since that morning. This considered, Connor agreed to Fowler's conditions, and though he still had very obvious doubts about leaving his partner alone, he worked hard to convince himself that this was the most he could do.

It was the only thing he could do.

* * *

Fowler agreed to stay in the car while Connor completed his tasks. He stepped into the living room, surprised that he hadn't been greeted already by the massive Saint Bernard, who was sleeping peacefully in the living room.

He made his way over to Hank's room, setting the two wet and bloodstained jackets on the floor in a pile at the foot of Hank's bed, then stripped himself of the rest of his soaked clothing. He opened up the wooden doors of their shared wardrobe, staring blankly at the assortment of clothing for a moment. Connor wondered quietly to himself.

Was he even still alive?

Shaking off his fears, Connor quickly picked an outfit consisting of a black heavy metal t-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting jeans. Laying the folded clothes over his bare arm, Connor walked across the hall to the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. He turned around for a moment, catching himself in the bathroom mirror

Connor found himself staring at his own reflection for quite a while. There were still smudges and dried blood that remained caked to his body even with all of the rain. The sight almost took his breath away. But something else bothered him deeply.

Connor set the clothes on the edge of the sink, taking his pointer and middle finger to his temple where his L.E.D. was cycling between yellow and red. He began deactivating his skin slowly, allowing the synthetic fluid to retract itself back within the android's blank, white, plastimetal frame. Connor stood back after all of his skin had been removed. He almost didn't recognize himself. It had been so long since Connor had seen himself without his skin, nothing but his eyes to tell him apart from any other android.

 _I knew that when I chose to deviate, I would lose my mission, my handler, and everything that Cyberlife had to offer me._ He thought to himself.

 _More than that, I knew I would lose my purpose...Hunt deviants. Protect humans. Even when I continued my work as a detective, my purpose was still to protect humans._ Connor watched himself, tracing the crevices between the plastimetal plates in his face with his index finger.

 _But when I'm like this, I can see clearly that I am still an android. Still a machine. Still artificial. And though some may say differently, human life will always be more unique and special than that of an android. More_ _important_ _than that of an android. And yet, in only a few weeks, I've allowed two humans to face deaths that were intended for me. My partners...My friend…_

Connor noticed when he looked up again that tears were beginning to form in his eyes again.

"I've failed my purpose…" Connor spoke aloud, voice breaking softly, "And if Hank dies, I…" Connor shut his eyes tightly, swallowing his tears. "I can never forgive myself."

* * *

Connor came out of the shower in new, dry clothing, still running a towel through the dark mass of his hair. He was just beginning to call for Sumo to let him out when he heard a long, deep howl erupt from Hank's room.

"Sumo?!" Connor called his L.E.D. switching to red, alarmed and frightened by the dog's cries. The android ran into Hank's bedroom, where much to his chagrin, he found Sumo howling sorrowfully over the pile of Connor's bloodied clothes. Resting directly under his head was Hank's brown jacket. Connor looked down at the dog with pity, kneeling down on one knee and reaching out his hand to pet the lamenting dog.

"Oh Sumo..." Connor cried quietly, "I'm so sorry, boy…" He croaked, putting his forehead against the dog's. "I'm so so sorry…" Sumo couldn't possibly understand the android's condolences or apologies in a way that it would mean anything, but the dog seemed to understand mourning, which was something the two of them could express together.

"It shouldn't have been him…" Connor whimpered quietly.


	16. Sympathy For the Devil

"Sympathy for the Devil"

When Connor had finished taking care of all of the responsibilities around Hank's house, he went out to meet Fowler in his car. Connor had thrown the wet, bloodstained pile of clothes into wash to avoid upsetting Sumo any more than he already was. But Connor was fairly sure that some of those stains would never come out no matter how many times they were run through the wash.

Connor got back into the car, still looking grim but defiant. His face seemed slightly less worn, but there was still a darkness in his eyes. Fowler kept a wary eye on the android who remained solemnly silent the rest of the ride back, save one passing comment.

"No word?" He asked quietly. He knew it was a stupid question, yet part of him pressed to to ask his captain anyways. Fowler shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Nothing yet...doubt they'd call me anyways." He responded.

Connor wasn't entirely surprised by Fowler's response, but he felt his heart sink nonetheless.

The two did not speak again until they arrived at the hospital.

Fowler waited with Connor in the emergency waiting room for three or four hours, watching the android stare painfully out the windows with his head resting in one of his hands.

* * *

After a few hours had passed, a nurse walked into the waiting room, holding a plastic tote full of clothing and other articles.

"Hank Anderson?" She called softly, looking around the room for a response. Connor stood up almost immediately, approaching the nurse almost aggressively, enough to startle the woman and cause her to step back reflexively.

"His partner. Where is he?" Connor asked, sounding defensive as if the nurse had threatened to attack him. The woman stammered for a moment before a tall, dark haired surgeon put a hand on her shoulder, taking back the tote from her.

"He's in post-op, detective." He responded, gesturing for the nurse to go back to her station. The nurse ran off, feeling rather flustered, and left Connor and the surgeon alone. The doctor handed Connor the plastic tote of what Connor presumed to be Hank's articles. He snatched the bag from the doctor a bit quicker than he had anticipated. "There was quite a bit of damage done to the lower intestines and he lost more blood than we would have liked, but he's pushed through." Connor felt himself release a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding.

"How is he doing?" Connor asked hopefully, but the surgeon's face only grew slightly more grim at the question. Fowler had risen at this point and was approaching Connor's side, eager for news as well.

"Like I said," he began, "He's fought through the surgery as best as he can given the circumstances. But there was significant damage done to his heart during his initial rescue. Your partner is alive, no doubt. But he still remains unresponsive. We plan to keep him here as long as he needs, and maybe a little longer for the sake of monitoring his cardiac rhythms." Connor nodded to the defeating news, but it was still more hopeful than being told he was dead. The doctor's face grew more serious now. "And detective," He started slowly, "There were a few things on your partner's medical records that could be considered alarming given the current circumstances. I'm quite sure you're aware of…" He paused as if trying to understand the best way to word his next few sentences. "Mr. Anderson's-"

"Lieutenant." Connor corrected, almost subconsciously. The doctor nodded.

"Of course... _Lieutenant_ Anderson's drinking habits?" Connor froze, feeling Fowler's hard gaze on his back.

"He's cut back on the drinking significantly in the past few months." Connor responded, as if to dismiss the doctor's concerns.

"And that is incredible progress for an alcoholic of over 20 years, especially without any sort of professional guidance. But the damage that has been done over that period of time still remains, and your partner's heart, pancreas, and liver have all suffered that. He's lost a lot of blood due to thinning, and currently he's at a high risk of type two diabetes as we-."

"What does that have to do with Hank _right now_?" Connor snapped, his voice low and daring. "He's here because he's just been _shot,_ not because of alcohol poisoning. Someone _did_ this to him! Don't try to pin this on him!"

"Connor.." Fowler started, putting his hand to the android's shoulder. Connor shrugged his hand off.

"What I'm saying here is that _we_ have done everything we can regarding the gunshot wounds. However, the excessive drinking may have poised more of a problem for Lieutenant Anderson than we can help."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," The doctor inhaled sharply, "We can't be certain he's going to wake up. We will continue to do everything we can for him but-"

"He'll wake up." Connor interrupted coldly, as if he could see plainly into the future and was merely stating a fact.

The doctor looked up at Connor as if to protest, but decided it best to say nothing.

"I..I'll let you know when you can see him." The doctor stammered before leaving the two alone in the waiting room. Connor looked down at the bag he had been holding with an iron grip. His fingernails had broken through part of of the plastic.

"Connor, what the hell is wrong with you?" Fowler asked in a hushed whisper, "I know you're upset, but goddammit, you need to get a hold of yourself!"

"He was trying to-"

"Do his job, Connor." Connor felt a disgusted look pass over his face as turned away from the chief, scoffing at him and returning to his seat. He still held the bag of Hank's articles tightly in his grip. He loosened his grip on the bag for a moment, looking into it to check the contents. The remainder of Hank's clothes lay neatly folded and washed at the bottom of the bag. Connor assumed that some of those stains would never wash out completely.

On top of clothes was Hank's 45 Magnum revolver, likely retrieved on his person. Next to that was his car keys and his cell phone. Connor grabbed the cell phone and examined the front of the screen. The screen was cracked diagonally, with smaller cracks chipping away like spider webs at the base. The bottom of the phone was scuffed as well, likely from Hank dropping it when he was struck by Scarver.

The thought flashed violently across Connor's mind, causing his grip on the cell phone to tighten slightly. Fowler had joined Connor, sitting in one of the seats across from him, looking at the android with concern and confusion, but he was silent, feeling that his words would bring no comfort to his officer. Connor simply stared at the blank broken screen.

* * *

The doctor finally returned to inform Captain Fowler and Connor that Hank was able to have visitors. Connor looked up slightly, pocketing Hank's cell phone and keys and following him behind the doors of the intensive care unit. The smell of sterilizing fluid was incredibly pungent.

The two were led into a small room, separated from the rest of the unit by a clear sliding door. The room was bare and whitewashed with only a monitor, cot, and recliner which sat in the corner of the room. Connor stepped into the room hesitantly, feeling the air shift as he passed the door's sliding track. He walked in past the frame and placed the plastic bag of clothes on one of the tables in his room.

His heart seemed to drop out of his chest as he turned his attention to the bed which sat positioned against the back wall. His L.E.D slowly shifted from yellow to red. Hank sat hooked to an IV and heart monitor with multiple other tubes and wires connected to him. Fowler stayed planted by the doorway, but Connor approached the bed, half stumbling as he stifled a cry in his throat. Hank looked as though he had aged twenty years in the past few hours, his face was haggard and pale, almost as greyed as his hair. He was intubated, a large white machine breathing for him. If it wasn't for the slow, rhythmic droning of the heart monitor, Connor might have guessed that death had already taken his partner. He inhaled sharply, his breath full of slight tremors as he took Hank's cold, grey hand. It felt unnervingly dry.

"H-hank..?" He asked, his voice weak and strange to his own ears. But the old detective didn't stir. Connor shut his eyes in despair, turning his head away slowly as if it would help the heaviness in his heart. "God…" He whispered under his breath. "Hank I...I'm so sorry...I…" But his apologies felt empty and dry and the android went silent in response.

Fowler looked at Connor with pity in his eyes, trying to avoid catching Hank's eerily grey face in his peripheral vision. He looked away at the floor for a moment and then looked back to the android, trying to force down a small gagging feeling in his throat.

"Connor…" he started, "I..I'm going to find something to eat. Stay with Hank, will you?"

Connor said nothing at first, but Fowler was sure he wouldn't leave Hank's side right now if the damn world was ending.

"Captain Fowler.." Connor began slowly, keeping his voice low.

"Yes?"

"Keep Hank's survival out of the media if you can...If Scarver knows he's here, he could try to come back and finish the job."

"O..of course, Connor." Fowler nodded to himself, leaving the unit swiftly.

Connor could sense the discomfort in Fowler's voice, but his mind was somewhere else. His grip on his partner's hand tightened as he swallowed the pain he felt rising in his voice.

"Hank...I..I don't know if you can still hear me...But I never wanted any if this…"Connor bowed his head over his partner, feeling almost like he was confessing his sins, past and future. "That bastard wanted me...From the start he wanted me, and...well, I ran. And I paid for running... _You_ paid for running. But not this time…" He whispered the last sentence much lower under his breath, as if he was trying to keep it between him and the fallen detective. "Hank I will find him. I will find the man that did this to you and I…" Connor felt his fists and teeth clench as his anger overwhelmed everything in him. "God, I will destroy him!" Connor's voice calmed for a moment as he released the tension in his hands. "O-or let destroy me, I don't know." Connor's voice broke very suddenly as tears began to flow involuntarily from his dark eyes. "E-either way...no matter what happens, I will make sure he can never t-touch you again...o-or anyone. God, if I don't swear on that Hank…" Connor watched Hank's face through his tears, half expecting some kind of response. Some snarky remark, a backhanded compliment, even just a plain insult would suffice, forced through his intubated throat. But he was silent.

Connor let a pained gasp escape from his throat, almost devastated by Hank's silence.

"He will pay Hank…" Connor sobbed quietly. "He will pay….or I will." Connor wiped the tears from his face with the palm of his free hand.

A faint buzzing and a chorus of "The Number of the Beast" emitting from Connor's pocket interrupted the android's thoughts for a moment. He gasped with surprise, letting go of Hank's hand and scrambling to fish out the phone that was still resting in his pocket.

He retrieved it, looking at the caller ID through the cracked screen.

 _UNKNOWN CALLER_

Connor stared down at the phone for a moment, hesitant to even answer it. Part of him already knew whose voice would be heard on the other end of the line. He pressed the accept button, putting the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

" _Hi, Connor."_ The android froze, feeling his very heart leave him.

"Scarver." Connor's voice was cold. He felt his L.E.D. shift to yellow as he began to triangulate the blocked signal as best as he could. He needed to stall for time.

" _Oh, Connor I was so disappointed we didn't get to see each other today…"_ He started slowly, " _But you simply had to go and ruin all of our fun didn't you? Calling backup, Connor? That wasn't in our agreement. And God, your sportsmanship, boy. Such a sore loser..."_

"You _shot_ my partner." Connor growled under his voice. "I had no choice!"

" _You needed_ _ **incentive**_ _dear android._ " Scarver chuckled to himself, " _And, well, I needed_ _ **insurance**_ _. Proof that you wouldn't try to trick me or...have me arrested."_ Connor could hear the contempt in his voice. " _However, I am a very forgiving man, Connor. And I would like to offer you another chance"_

"Who ever said I wanted to see your fucking face?" Connor hissed under his breath. "You _shot_ Hank! You _killed_ Agent Jareau!"

" _Up to you Connor."_ Scarver scoffed. " _I know you're tracing the call anyways, so if you decide to show...Well, I'll be waiting."_

The line went dead.

Connor looked at the phone again, a grim look passing over his face before setting the phone on the table next to Hank's bag of clothes. A small notification popped up in Connor's visual sensors.

 _TRACE COMPLETE_

 _LOCATION RETRIEVED_

Connor felt a weak and pained sigh escape his throat.

"Hank…" Connor began hoarsely, turning back to his partner and putting a reassuring hand on his forearm. "If...if I do this...I may not come back…" Connor paused for a moment, "I _can't_ come back...and...I hope that with time...you'll understand that…And...with time you could..." Connor looked away, forcing himself to swallow his rising tears again, "...forgive me…"

The android forced a pained smile as he put his hand on his friend's shoulder. He turned to leave the room and stopped for a moment at the table.

He hesitated for a moment, then fished something out of his pocket. He stared at the black leather object for some time, his face growing grim and full of growing regret.

He then threw it down against the table as if it had burned him, leaving it next to Hank's phone.

The android looked back to his partner one more time before leaving the hospital

"Goodbye, Hank."

* * *

Fowler wrung his hands nervously as he returned to Hank's hospital room.

The chief was starving and yet found that he had no appetite at the same time. Hospitals were a very normal part of his job, and yet seeing his friend in such a pitiful and broken state seemed to make his stomach turn.

As he walked into the room, he was surprised to find that Connor wasn't there.

"Connor?" He called, searching the empty room for the lost android. He saw nothing of Connor or any sign of where he might be, but a slight glimpse of gold and leather caught his eye from across the room. He approached it slowly, his heart sinking deep into his chest as a grim recognition passed over his face. Fowler picked up the small billfold, rubbing his thumb against the black leather coating for a moment before opening it up. He breathed a heavy and somewhat distressed sigh as the object registered in his mind.

Connor's badge.

The android was gone, leaving nothing but what appeared to be a sign of bitter resignation. He set the detective badge back down on the table next to Hank's partially destroyed cell phone and turned his attention back to his weak and pitiful-looking friend. He pulled a chair up next to Hank's bed, pondering why Connor would have just left the detective there without a second word or thought. He bowed his head low, interlacing his fingers together and pressing them against his forehead.

He sat this way for some time, his mind wandering as he wondered what he would tell the old detective if he ever woke up. But as he ran through his own mind, a single, bitter realization hit him. Connor had turned in his badge, but there was still something the android had left missing.

His gun.

Fowler sat up suddenly, looking back at the badge that was resting idley on the table.

"Oh God…" Fowler murmured.

* * *

After walking a few miles back into the city, Connor finally arrived at the abandoned street corner where Hank had been sent to investigate their false lead. It was dark and the rain had stopped, though heavy, thick clouds still permeated the sky, blocking out any astral light. It was uncomfortably quiet save the steady breath of wind that passed through the small alleyway every few steps. Connor found himself feeling strangely uneasy, a feeling of dread passing over him as he walked down that street towards the detective's car. The dread was thick and seemed to suffocate him at times, but there was something else in him that burned slightly stronger, clearing a path through his mental fog of grief and fear.

He had never felt so truly angry since his activation. Afraid, doubtful, upset and hurt, yes. But this was different. This feeling burned hot in his chest and seemed to cancel out all other distractions of the day. The pain lingered still in the back of his mind, but strangely it stood now with purpose. It was fueling this fire of vengeful anger and hatred, almost shocking his body in a wave of hot fury. This wasn't just an emotion. It was physical, as if his body was backing every process in his mind now, the two working side by side to finish this job. To accomplish this mission.

As Connor reached the detective's car, inserting the key into the driver's side door to unlock it, he felt himself hesitate, going back over his emotions and intentions side by side for a moment, almost reconsidering his plan. He knew with absolute certainty why he was planning to meet with Scarver. It was not to have a constructive chat with the ringmaster, no. He wasn't going to subdue him just to retrain his arms and bring him back to the police again. Connor intended to hold Scarver's trail right here at his tracked location, acting as judge, jury, and executioner. And he already knew the verdict before Cyrus O'Sullivan would have a change to plead his case.

The android took his free hand, pressing it against his eyes for a moment as if trying to clear his head.

He had never so badly in all of his short life wanted so badly to take the life of a human being. He had killed humans before, not many, but some and always in self defense more than for any other purpose. But this was different. Even if this man swore off killing for the rest of his life, even if he took some sort of unbreakable oath never to harm the android or anyone around him for the rest of his own life, Connor would still be compelled to but a bullet between his dark, daring eyes.

Connor grimaced as his hands clenched tightly around Hank's keys. This was wrong. It was against everything in his programming, everything in his _conscience_ more than anything.

"What am I doing..?" He murmured to himself, his fingers threatening to drop the keys to the pavement. A voice in his head almost seemed to answer for him.

 _Protecting Hank_

Connor stood with his keys in hand trying to make this decision within his last chance to turn back. But in his heart he knew that his mind was already made up.

He unlocked the door, stepping into the messy and unkempt interior of his partner's car. He put the keys into the ignition, and turned it swiftly as the car roared to life. The radio to sprung to life, playing something from one of Hank's presets.

 _Please allow me to introduce myself_

 _I'm a man of wealth and taste_

"Rolling Stones…" Connor murmured, half amused. "That's old even for your taste, Hank.." He shifted the car into gear and began following the coordinates from his traced phone call.

 _Pleased to meet you_

 _Hope you guess my name_

The song continued to play and Connor found himself turning up the volume slightly as he drove.

 _But what's puzzling you is the_

 _Nature of my game_

Doubts rose steadily in Connor's mind as the predicament continued to play through the android's head. His L.E.D. began cycling yellow and red. He did his best to push them down again.

 _I shouted out_

" _Who killed the Kennedy's"_

What would Hank even think if he woke up?

 _When after all_

Could Connor really find it in his heart to try and justify murder?

 _It was you and me_

No.

 _Just as every cop is a criminal_

Scarver deserved this.

 _And all the sinners saints_

After everything he had done.

 _As heads and tails just call me Lucifer_

After every life he had taken

' _Cause I'm in need of some restraint_

How could this be anything but justice?

Pushing the doubts away from his thoughts, Connor's L.E.D began to spin blue as he pressed his foot hard against the gas pedal, the car doing its very best to keep up with the sudden acceleration. He let the song continue to blare through the speakers as he continued down the dark highway.

 _Pleased to meet you, hope you guessed my name_

 _...puzzling you is the nature of my game_

* * *

Connor arrived at an old apartment complex no more than 20 minutes from the city. It didn't appear to be abandoned or condemned. On the contrary, it seemed occupied seeing as a mother and her son were seen walking into the front doors of the complex for the night. Connor was almost convinced he had found the wrong place at first. Scarver didn't seem like the kind of person with the gall to hide in plain sight, but the detective had no other leads.

He approached the door slowly with his handgun close to his body, walking against the bare wall. His hand found the security panel and the android retracted his skin, allowing him to hack through the protocols that kept the doors sealed at night without an ID. He slipped into the lobby, finding only dimmed lights. He searched the walls for a directory of some sorts, hoping to find an abandoned room or a possible alias that Scarver could have been using. In one of the slots was a temporary name tag that was made of paper in opposition to the hologrammed names. Connor read the name on the tag and grimaced.

PARKER JAREAU

"Of course…" Connor hissed under his breath as his L.E.D spun yellow. "What else would it be?" Connor found that the room was on the third floor and headed towards the stairs that were across the hall.

He reached the room quickly drawing his gun from the holster and pressing his back against the door of the room. He listened through the door for any sort of sound but found that the entire hall was silent. Almost without a second thought, Connor took his foot and broke through the locked door. The sound was loud and Connor realized just how many people he may have woken up. Stealth had completely skipped his mind. Grimacing, Connor pushed into the room scanning it for his target. The room was darkened, with only a dim light pouring out from the kitchen. Moving slowly to the kitchen, the android searched for any signs of Scarver only to come up short.

Connor continued to clear rooms, finding nothing much to his frustration, until he saw a single, dark shadowed figure sitting on the balcony with a clear crystal glass in his hand. The moonlight shone through the whisky in the glass, casting a yellowish brown light against the balcony door. His back was turned to Connor and he appeared to be stargazing. The android felt his heartstrings spike with anxiety as a certain tightness grew in his chest. Connor approached the door slowly, his gun drawn and ready to fire. He crept up to the sliding door and yanked it open, keeping his gun trained upon Scarver's head.

"Don't move." Connor growled quietly, clicking the safety off of his weapon. "Cyrus O'Sullivan." His voice was barely steady enough to betray his fear. But Scarver hadn't moved. Even when the door slammed itself open, the man acted as if nothing had happened. He barely even flinched.

"Hello Connor." Scarver greeted with his thick Scottish accent, his head still turned to the stars. There was a certain cheerfulness to his voice as if he was talking with an old friend. "I'm glad to see you again, dear boy. It's been too long...really. I see you've done your homework on me then?"

"Enough." Connor said quietly. "Stand up, and turn around, hands on your head." But Scarver didn't move.

"Come now, _Detective."_ He replied almost sarcastically. "Can't you let a man finish his drink before we start with the formalities?"

"I'm _not_ going to ask you again." Connor answered through gritted teeth. "Stand up and drop your weapon." Connor heard Scarver laugh bitterly as he stood from his seat on the balcony.

"Oh, dear Connor." He chuckled as he turned to face the android, keeping his glass in hand. "Why do you think I would even _have_ a weapon? I've already told you I just want to talk."

"You expect me to believe that you wouldn't have a weapon knowing I'm coming to confront you? Do you think I'm that fucking naive?" Connor could sense his own tone becoming more angry and tense.

"Search me then!" Scarver shrugged smiling. "Hah, your faith in me is so lacking."

"For good fucking reason." Connor muttered, holstering his own gun and patting down his target, watching for any movements that might be a little too quick. He was telling the truth. He stepped back and pulled his gun back out again.

"How come?" Scarver sneered with naive pride. "I've never lied to you before now have I?"

"You _shot_ my partner."

"I promised I would!" Scarver replied much to Connor's frustration.

"He's _dying_ you piece of shit! Do you even have any capacity to understand what you've done? You shot a federal officer _and_ a police detective _._ And you're telling me that you just want to TALK to me?" Connor felt his hands began to tremble against the grip of his gun as he swallowed his fury. His L.E.D. was heavily pulsing red now.

"I admire your ambition, Connor. You truly are a wonderfully spunky young man. And so capable of truly malicious deeds. I'd watch that ambition of yours though. I may remind you, there's no worse torture a man can bare than what he does to himself."

"Shut up!" Connor growled again.

"In fact, I wanted to discuss the possibility of work together. You see, I've admired you and yours for so long and I tried to express that back at my bunker before you shot me in the leg."

"You aren't serious. You think I would ever consider working alongside a MURDERER like you? I'm a detective."

"A _murderer_ like me hm?" Scarver laughed, "you really think that you and I are _that_ different Connor?"

"I am _nothing_ like you. Everything I've done has been to protect this city and its citizens."

"Including executing your own kind simply for demanding a right to their own life? You really believe that puts you above me? Above a _murderer?"_ Connor froze up as a lump drew up in his throat.

"T-that...That was different." Connor stammered. But Scarver simply continued with his argument.

"Or perhaps we can consider when you decided you were playing for the wrong team? Maybe you're not standing by and watching as your own kind is put through a horrific genocide. But those _humans_ you swore to protect, you turned on them almost as quickly as you turned on your own people! The SWAT officers that you worked with? The men from your precinct? You killed them just as quickly! Tell me Connor, if that isn't murder then what is it?"

"Self defense, Cyrus. They'll say the same thing about this." He replied, repositioning his gun.

"Of the gunning down of an unarmed citizen?"

"You are an escaped criminal! You've killed federal agents and police officers! No one would ever question me right now."

"You're no better than me, Connor. Lying, manipulating, KILLING—"

"I am NOTHING like you!" Connor reiterates for a second time.

"Oh what? You think I don't know your plans here today, Connor? You think that you're really above shooting someone with no intentions of harming you? You're angry, you're hurt and you want vengeance. And I can't say I blame you? I would do the same!"

"Shut up!" Connor cried out, his voice breaking.

"Alright, Connor...I understand. You're upset. So let me make this easy on you." Still holding onto his glass, Cyrus extended his arms out to the android.

"W-what...what are you doing?"

"I've had some time to consider it and I'll be honest. I feel truly awful for hurting you and everyone with my actions." He sounded like a child, confessing his sins to an infuriated parent.

"You're lying…"

"I'm really not! In fact, I want you to take me back in. Come on Connor, be that loyal detective you claim to be! Take me in and put me in prison and let me pay for what I've done by the verdict of a court. Isn't that the law of justice you live by?"

"No!" Connor yelled, "you don't _get_ to do this now! You don't GET to—"

"To what Connor? Evade your fucked up version of justice? Spend the rest of my life in prison while your partner rots away in the ICU? That's what this state would call justice isn't it?"

 _...hope you guessed my name_

"You don't DESERVE justice." Connor replied, the skin from his knuckles slipping from his hands as he gripped his weapon. "Nothing you've done has even been REMOTELY human! Why do you deserve to go away like one?"

 _...puzzling you is the nature of my game_

"Let that anger out, tell me what you really feel! You know, you're right, Connor." Cyrus grinned wickedly, "I'm NOT human. And apparently neither are you. Just know that once you start this, it won't stop. It will NEVER stop." Connor was in distress. He knew that what he was doing was against everything he had ever stood for. He had known that since the beginning. And yet here he was, gun trailed on an escaped felon who was surrendering himself to the detective.

 _...Every cop is a criminal_

"Just think of your poor partner, Connor. What about Agent Jareau? Do they deserve to die while I still live?"

A test. This was some sort of game. He was trying to get inside the android's head. Test his loyalties, his beliefs. And he was getting everything he wanted

"S-Shut up!"

 _...All the sinners saints_

"Come now, Connor. Make your choice."

 _Who killed the Kennedy's?_

"Either take me in, let me stand my trial…"

 _When after all_

"...or take justice into your own hands."

 _It was you and me_

 _BANG_

Connor pulled the trigger.

* * *

The sound of the gunshot and shattering glass rang clear in Connor's skull and the android stood blinking for a moment, not entirely sure what had happened. He heard the dull roar of the busy highway underneath the whispers of the March wind. His vision was blurred as he tried to look at what was touching his feet but everything in his field of vision was in one blurry mass. He stood blankly for a moment, waiting for his sight to return as the picture came into focus.

Cyrus O'Sullivan's hand rested lifelessly against Connor's shoe, blood dripping from his chest and down his arm. Next to him, the shot glass lay in shattered, whiskey covered pieces that were only barely untouched by the pool of blood that was growing steadily from underneath Cyrus's limp prostrate body.

"Oh my god…" the android murmured as he brought his hand to his mouth. It was done. Connor knelt down, turning the man's head and checking him for a pulse. There was no sound or rhythm appearing in Connor's scans. But even as the monster lay dead at Connor's feet, he found that the ringmaster has died with a tight smile drawn upon his cold lips. Connor stared at his body for a moment, disturbed as if he expected O'Sullivan to stand up and begin to gloat over him. But Scarver didn't move. Not now or ever again. He simply sat there, his wicked smile engraved onto his old, ragged face for eternity.

Connor came back to his senses suddenly with a horrible realization. This apartment wasn't abandoned. Even now, with the sounds of a door being broken in and the firing of gunshots this late at night, Connor knew that someone would have called the police. He had to get out of here, try to cover his tracks as best he could.

No...the police would know who did this. Hell, Cyrus didn't even have a weapon on him. Suicide, self defense, nothing to rule out foul play.

Connor felt his stress rise as the reality of what he had done set in on him.

Connor had murdered a man.

He could never return to the precinct . He could never go home. Likely, he could never see Hank again.

But he had been prepared for this, or at least he believed that he was prepared for this. He knew it was a possibility before he had even left the hospital room.

But that was before. Before when he was full of sorrow and anger for his fallen companion and nothing in heaven or on earth could have prevented what would come next. But now it was done. It was done and there was nothing to do but run. Run from the police? From Detroit? From Michigan even? There was no telling how far or long the police would search for him.

But there was still a worse realization to be had. Scarver had expected this. No, he planned this, he WANTED this.

He was unarmed, unaggressive, and even turned himself in for Connor to take back into the precinct. He knew Connor's plans were vengeful. He just wanted to torture the android one more time before eating a bullet himself. To take _everything_ Connor had left in the name of vengeance.

His job.

His home.

His family.

 _I may remind you, there's no worse torture a man can bare than what he does to himself._

Connor had expected a trap, but had fallen right into one anyways.

 _Every cop is a criminal_

 _And all the sinners saints_

Connor heard the sharp screaming of approaching police sirens and realized that he had to run now.

He holstered his gun, which was barely in his grip at all as his hands shook violently, and made his way to the edge of the balcony, beginning a reconstruction of his escape from the third story.

His simulation was suddenly interrupted as he stepped on something hard that had been sitting in the pile of glass. He bent down, lifting his foot from the pile and examining the small metal object.

It was a flash drive, blank and white with splashes of whisky drenching the exterior. Connor picked it up curiously. He turned it around and revealed four words handwritten in black ink

 _FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED_

"...what I started..?" Connor mumbled. But the sounds of voices coming up the stairs of the apartment complex interrupted his thoughts.

He pocketed the flash drive and ran to the edge of the balcony, jumping off of the railing.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_

 _Here's the song that is being mentioned throughout this story._  
 _Absolutely in love with this song and I feel it fits the nature of this chapter._

 _watch?v=btyxW8LRKn0_

 _Hope you enjoyed it!_


	17. The Devil Burns Cold

"The Devil Burns Cold"

Hank was laying among dark and erratic dreams, his body cold and weak. He could see nothing and it appeared he was attempting to find his way through an oasis that was lain with snow and ice. He could feel the sharp chill of hail as it struck his bare forearms. He brought his arm up to his face, shielding his eyes from the barrage of snow and ice, trying to find some sort of shelter. He tried to call out for help but his voice was weak and strangled.

As he continued to walk through the dream, a dim red light began to shine through the dark. Hank followed it without question, putting to use that dream-like lack of judgement. He tried to call out to the figure again, only to be choked off again by an unknown force.

To his surprise, the light was radiating from the L.E.D. of an android who was standing at the other end of the garden, watching him with a grim look on his face.

 _Connor?_

It was Connor, or at least appeared to be based on the blurred shape of his clothing. His L.E.D. was glowing calmly, though it remained red and distressed.

Hank tried to walk to his friend, slowly making out his features. In one hand, he held his handgun, the safety clicked of and primed, ready to fire.

In the other, his fist was clenched as if holding onto something. He stared at Hank blankly and frozen as if he didn't really see him. Hank tried to call out to him again to no avail. As Hank finally reached his partner, he put a hand on his shoulder, trying to snap him out of whatever spell he was under. Slowly, the android looked back at him, oncoming tears beginning to fill the rims of his eyes.

"I can't…" He responded, electronic reverb filling his voice as he pulled away from Hank's grasp. "I'm sorry…" And he took the detective by the shoulders, pushing him hard onto the frozen ground.

* * *

Hank awoke suddenly as his in dream body hit the ground, only to find that his waking was a little worse than the strange, dark dream. He was in bed, per his expectations, but not his own bed. More of a cot looking thing really, he thought to himself. There was a series of loud beeps echoing through his ears and the dull murmuring of voices outside of his room. He felt for his head and winced at the sudden dull pain of a busted skull.

 _Probably a concussion…_ He thought to himself.

Not uncommon considering the artillery of injuries the detective has recurved over the years in his law enforcement career.

The detective tried to call out for someone but was silenced again this time by a plastic tube that ran through the back of his throat, rather than some unseen force. Hank choked back on the plastic and grabbed it from the back, preparing himself to yank it out. A shrill voice began screaming at him from a distance.

"Hey hey hey! Hold on Mr. Anderson! Shit!" A young, dark haired nurse ran to his side, pressing her hand against his chest and using her other hand to grab his arm. "Don't do that!" She reprimanded as Hank lay himself back down against the bed. The detective tried to protest but found he was only able to emit choked cries. Rather, he glared daggers at the nurse in hopes of getting the message across.

"God, I'm so sorry Mr. Anderson. We didn't know you'd be awake, and you haven't been able to breathe on your own since— alright, you're okay, give me just a minute and we'll get that thing out, okay?"

The nurse called in the help of another to help her remove the intubation tube from the detective's throat. She gave him some water to help with the dry pain in his throat. He tried to ask for Connor or what happened, seeing as his memory was too dull and fragmented to remember. However, when he tried to speak, he found his voice just as hoarse and silent.

"Don't try to speak yet." The other, calmer nurse warned. "You'll be fine but you need to give yourself some time. I'll have your nurse contact your emergency contact okay?"

Grabbing at his sore throat, Hank nodded weakly, taking another sip of water and forcing it down. He winced slightly at a dull pain that welled up in his abdomen as he tried to sit up. Broken rib maybe. It hurt but it was bearable enough.

As he waited for Connor, Hank did his best to try and recount what had happened that day or the day before or however long he had been there. He'd tried to look at his cell phone only to find that the device was dead and the screen had been smashed to pieces.

He was working a case? Maybe? A homicide...that would make sense but it didn't feel right.

No, a robbery. _Armed_ robbery, at a convenience store on...was it 5th? Ah, didn't matter. But there wasn't actually a case there...it was a false tip...a trap?

The guy was looking for Connor...and he…

Hank felt for the area of his chest he had assumed was a broken rib and pulled up the gown to look at the injuries, which were bandaged up to his surprise rather than a bruised. He peeled back the bandages to find partially healed surgical scars. Hank was surprised at how far along the healing seemed to be.

Oh god, had he been _shot_?

And what about Connor? The man who shot him had been looking for his partner and tried to lure him there using Hank. Would he have gone? Was he really stupid enough for that?

"D..damn right he's stupid enough." The detective croaked, putting his gown back down underneath the sheets.

"Hank?" A familiar voice called from the hallway. Hank sat up again, squinting as he looked through the doorway.

"J-Jeffery?" Hank asked, his face twisting into a confused glare. "The hell you doing here?"

"Doc told me you'd woken up, and I'll tell you I wasn't sure I believed him. How do you feel?" Fowler asked, stepping into the room, a case file secured under his arm.

"How the hell do you think? Like I've been hit by a bus." Hank grumbled. "What the hell happened?" He asked as Fowler took a seat and pulled it up to his friend's bed.

"You were shot." Fowler stated. Hank rolled his eyes giving Fowler a disapproving glance.

"No shit, Chief Obvious. I figured _that_ much, you think I don't know what a bullet feels like?"

"I wasn't sure how much you would...remember after all this."

"How the hell am I alive?"

"Connor called it in and ran to your aid." He purses for a moment. "Do you know who shot you?"

"I don't know, some homeless asswipe looking for Connor, probably just some anti-android lunatic looking for revenge." Fowler sighed heavily, handing Hank the file that he had set in his lap. Hank sat up a bit more, opening the file and reading over its contents. "Cyrus O'Sullivan?" Hank murmured, "Who the hell is this asshole?"

"That's the man who shot Agent Jareau." Hank looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"From the Black Bucs op?" He muttered, thumbing through the papers. "I thought all those guys were either shot or locked up, hell, Connor winged this guy himself."

"We don't know how? But a few weeks ago, O'Sullivan was reported to have escaped from the correctional facility he was being held in until trial. We don't know how but it's assumed he had an associate of some type."

"And He went after Connor seeking revenge, huh?"

"That's what we assumed." Fowler stated grimly. "And when you showed up instead, O'Sullivan must have tried to bait him."

Then another question reached Hank's mind, his heart sinking slightly as he connected the reason why Fowler was there.

"You're my contact aren't you?" He asked his voice low.

"Sorry?"

"My emergency contact, Jeffrey.. did they call you?" Fowler looked away for a moment and then back up to Hank.

"Yes, they did.."

"Jeffery, where the hell is Connor?" He asked his voice dropping. Hank watched as Fowler's face dropped and he turned his face from Hank's eyes. His heart sunk low and heavy in his chest as he croaked out his next question. "Is..Is he dead?" He tried to keep his face stern and hard as he asked. Fowler shook his head bitterly, allowing the detective to breathe easily again.

"O'Sullivan was gone by the time Connor got there...but he...Connor is in the wind." he began slowly, "He's been missing ever since you were admitted from surgery…we've been looking for him far and wide but…"

"Ever since I've been admitted?" Hank asked, puzzled. "Jeffery, how long have I been here?" Fowler was silent for a moment, shaking his head.

"Three weeks." He answered suddenly.

"Three fucking…" Hank sat back, scoffing slightly as this barrage of information passed through his head. It would explain the healing in his wounds alright.

"And that's not all...hell, that's not even the worst of it."

"Try me."

"Well…I don't think Connor wants to be found as he seems to have dropped off the grid…not as hard for an android to do, obviously, but we think he had good reason for it."

"Oh yeah?" Hank challenged, "And what would that be?"

"We think he's on the run." Before Hank could as 'From what?' Fowler pointed to the folder. "Last page." Hank eyes Fowler suspiciously and flipped through the case file, finding that at the back, were crime scene photos, showing O'Sullivan dead on the balcony of an apartment.

"You think he killed him?" Hank asked almost amused as he tossed the file aside. "Even if he did, guy's a killer. Self defense, cut and dry, Connor knows that."

"I thought the same thing when I heard. But no weapons were found on him or in the apartment at all."

"So what?" Hank asked defensively, "Doesn't have to be with a weapon, this bastard could have tried to attack him without a gun."

"He was still holding the shot glass when he died." Fowler answered, "The scene reads as Connor being the aggressor."

"Connor wouldn't just straight up murder a guy Jeffery. He could have tried to bring him in and it went awry!" Fowler sat up, growing more irritable.

"He turned in his _badge_ before he disappeared, Hank. If he was trying to arrest him, he wouldn't have any authority."

"Well maybe it wasn't Connor at all!"

"Innocent men don't run from the law, Hank. You and I both know that!" Hank sat back, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. "You ask me, Connor went out pining for revenge. And I can't say I blame him."

"But you're still hunting him, huh?"

"The state is going to call it murder, Hank. And right now Connor is the prime suspect. But hell, in three weeks he could be anywhere."

Hank thought back to his strange dream inside the frozen garden. His attempts to speak to Connor had only resulted in him saying:

 _I can't_

Couldn't what? Come back? Come home?

That motherfucker could try.

"Yeah…" Hank sighed, grumbling as he tore the sheets from his bed. "Get me out of here, Jeffrey. Let's find that plastic piece of shit."

* * *

 _2 Months Later..._

Connor sat at a table on the outside patio of a French restaurant in one of the busy cities of Maine. His hair was swept over his right temple, obscuring his L.E.D. from sight and he was dressed in a well tailored suit, gazing at the menu with disinterest.

When he was sure nobody was watching, the android took out a small plastic tube he had obtained only days prior and broke it open, slipping a fine, white powder into the wine across from him.

He checked the watch that was fastened to his left wrist.

3:31 PM

His contact was late.

A young, red headed waitress came up to check on Connor.

"Are you ready to order, sir or do you still need a minute?"

"Thank you, but I'm still waiting on someone."

Suddenly, a young man looking a bit disheveled came half running to the table.

"Sorry, love." The man responded, patting the waitress on the shoulder. His accent was thick, probably English. "Give us just a moment, yes?" The waitress nodded and went to her next table inside the restaurant. Connor thought he seemed fairly polite, not quite what he had expected.

 _He's on the list._ The thick, Scottish voice in his head echoed. _Don't hesitate._

"Hello." Connor greeted, putting his hand out to the man as he took his seat. "Mick Ketchner?"

"Just Mickey, if you don't mind." The man replied taking Connor's hand in a firm handshake. "And you must be..?"

"Mr. Anderson." Connor replied. Mickey chuckled to himself.

"What like The Matrix?" Connor gave the man a blank and confused look. "Y-you know…" he started, "Like...the uh, movie...heh." Connor opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the swatting of Mickey's hand. "Ah never mind it, I'm sure we're not here to talk film are we?"

"No.." Connor stayed plainly, "This is very serious business Mr. Ketchner, as I'm sure you're aware?"

"It's all serious business in this life, ey Anderson? Why not let loose a bit, huh? Make this job a little less of a drab."

"Mr Ketch—"

 _He's on to you , Connor._ The voice of Scarver spoke again. _Play along why don't you?_ Connor hesitated for a moment.

"You know what?" Connor asked, changing his demeanor almost too suddenly. "You're right…" he lifted his wine glass from the table and motioned Mickey to a toast. The man took his glass as well, smiling warmly at his contact.

"Cheers, mate." The man replied, downing half of his glass before setting it back on the table. "So!" He clasped his hands together and sat up. "Shall we talk business?"

"Actually…" Connor began, carefully watching Mickey's reactions, "I had a few questions to ask about an associate of yours."

"Oh.." Mickey laughed nervously, "I-I don't discuss other clients I'm afraid." He pulled at the collar of his shirt lightly as drops of sweat began to trickle down his face.

"Are you aware that one of your _clients_ , Mr. Cyrus O'Sullivan, has escaped from prison?"

"I..I don't—" Mickey was interrupted by a small fit of coughing. He grabbed a napkin from the table as Connor stood from his chair and put his hands on the table, getting up in Mick's face.

"Did you hear that he turned up _dead_ in the place he was hiding out in?" He grabbed the man by the collar as he began to choke.

"W-What have you..?" Mickey began to fumble for his gun.

"With all the ties to the prison systems around the state of Michigan I can only make one assumption as to how you made the list."

"L-list? Y-you bastard..." Blood was pouring from the corners of his mouth as he tried his best to swallow it down.

"You let him out."

 _BANG_

* * *

The eruption of Mickey's handgun rang through Connor's ears. He fell back into his chair and felt a dull ache in his side as a warning flashed in his visual sensors. He watched as the man collapsed face first into the table, blood pouring from his unmoving mouth. Connor's hand went quickly to his abdomen as he winced in pain. He looked down to find his own blood staining his hands.

 _Huh..._ Scarver's voice echoed from the table next to him. _Nice going._

"Shit.." He swore quietly to himself, cupping his hand around his abdomen as he tried to keep his blood from spilling over. If the police found this, he could be identified. But he didn't have time to cover his tracks. The gunshot was loud and the restaurant staff would be coming through those doors any second now.

He stood from his seat and his face twisted in pain as he grimaced and tried to push past the burn. He jumped the fence that enclosed the restaurant patio and ran down the alley, half stumbling to his motel room. He could still hear the screaming of one of the waitresses as Mickey's body was found. They would be calling the cops soon…

"D-dammit." Connor groaned under his voice, trembling as he felt the thirium loss beginning to affect him. He had reached the motel room and threw open the door, still shaking.

 _You realize you can't stay here, Connor._ Scarver's voice echoed quietly. Connor looked over, seeing the man sitting in the recliner next to his bed. _They'll track the thirium back here and you'll be found out._

"Shut up…" Connor groaned under his breath quietly, undoing his tie and ripping open the buttons of his shirt. He grabbed a towel from the edge of the bed, dabbing at his abdomen lightly to clear the blood. Scarver day up, looking at Connor's wound and scoffing slightly with a smile on his face.

 _Damn_. He laughed. _That Brit really nailed you huh, lad? Did you really expect a trained special agent to just keel over and die without a fight?_

Connor ignored the man's comments and grabbed a pair of tweezers from the first aid kit in one of his bags. He tried to keep himself steady with the tweezers in one hand and the towel in the other.

"I can't go anywhere until I fix this.." Connor said quietly, his L.E.D. now clear in view and glowing and pulsing yellow. He dried his abdomen again and then sucking in his breath, he plunged the tweezers into the bullet hole.

"Shh! Aaah!" He cried out, clamping his teeth together, nearly biting his tongue. His L.E.D quickly changed to red.

 _Pulling a bullet out of your own chest, huh?_ Scarver laughed, crossing his arms and sitting back. _You're quite the badass huh?_

Connor grimaced and shuttered, exhaling heavily through his teeth as he grabbed onto the bullet with his instrument. He yanked it out with a groan, doubling over and nearly falling forward into the floor. He brought the towel close to his chest, applying pressure as he began to bleed more heavily. Connor could feel Scarver's smug gaze on him.

 _Are you going to wait around here all day for the cops to find you? You're going to get us killed!_

"Y-you're already d-dead…" Connor growled, grabbing some cord and a needle for makeshift stitches. "If I don't stop the bleeding, I'm going to die anyways…"

* * *

After Connor had finished stitching his wound and bandaging his wounds, he began collecting his things and putting them together. The image of Scarver sat by watching curiously and impatiently while Connor packed. He stood from the chair and began pacing the room.

 _Mick Ketchner..._ Scarver said quietly to himself. _Who's next on the list then Connor?_

"No one.." Connor stayed plainly, refusing to look up. "Ketchner and the closest members of your inner circle are dead. I don't need the list anymore." Scarver looked up at Connor, surprised and taken aback.

 _You don't NEED it, Connor?_ He scoffed, getting down into Connor's face and trying to get him to acknowledge his presence. _That list on the flash drive I gave you is FULL of my associates and contacts._ Connor grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

"The people directly responsible for Jareau and Hank are dead. _You're_ dead. I'm not going to kill anyone else." Connor stood up and turned away from Scarver, but the man appeared directly in front of him. Connor stepped back, startled.

 _You CAN'T stop, Connor._ Scarver growled. _You think you can ever go home after what you've done? You'll be locked away or torn apart, but you will never be free!_

"I _know_ that...but-"

 _Then why not finish the job? You have access to anyone that has EVER worked for or with me. Why not give them the justice they deserve._

Connor took the flash drive from his pocket and fingered it slightly. He flipped it over, gazing at the black inked text.

 _FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED_

He sighed heavily, grabbing at his abdomen as he turned to face a coffee table behind him. He placed his fist down on the table, opening it and letting the drive fall with a clatter onto the table.

"Let the police give them justice." Connor stated coldly.

 _Ah so NOW we're following the law, huh?_

"I was trying to protect-"

 _You were getting REVENGE, lad. Don't pretend you had any just reasons for your little adventure._

Ignoring the comment, Connor grabbed his bags and his jacket from the floor and off the back of the chair.

"I can't stay here any longer." He muttered. He opened up the door, ready to leave, but caught himself in the door. He stared back into the motel room, particularly at the drive he had left on the table. His mind swam in uncertainty for a moment as his L.E.D. flashed between red and yellow. He hoped he was making the right decision. It would be the first in lon time for Connor. He shook his head and left, running out swiftly and taking cover in the dark alleyways.

* * *

"Sounds to me like the wife's doing." Hank began, refusing to look up from his computer terminal. "The asshole had the cash and you _know_ he had life insurance to live like a king. Bitched popped a cap in his head, claimed the money as her own. We done here?"

" _Sounds_ like it? Hank, we still have investigate the scene! You can't just make an assumption and call it a day."

"Chris, listen, I'm really busy right now. Could you just find someone else to pair with today?" Chris crossed his arm and exhaled deeply through his teeth.

"You have left me alone for our past _five_ case assignments Hank!" He protested, leaning back against the detective's desk and refusing to move. "You can't keep leaving me in the dark here. It's too much work for one guy to handle."

"Listen, I've got my own plate of shit right now, Chris. I'll help you when I can, but there's a lot of work I'm trying to get out of the way first."

Chris sat himself up from the wall, scoffing at Hank's remarks, He began pacing around the perimeter of Hank's adjacent desks. Hank looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" He asked, scowling.

"You're still looking for leads on Connor, aren't you? _That's_ why you can't seem to help me, huh?" Hank stood up, trying to restrain himself from getting in his friend's face.

"No one in this damn office can seem to give me a break about him, can you?" He hissed, "I've been back to work for a little over a _month_ Chris. So will the assholes in this place quit breaking my damn balls?"

"Why can't you just join me for _one_ investigation, Hank? I just need another set of eyes. I'm new to the more hands on part of these kind of investigations."

"Next time, Chris, I promise." He looked back to his computer, grabbing onto the back of his chair. "Local authorities in New York just found my car ditched on the side of the road...It could be a lead. If my car was found just a few days ago, then that narrows down the area Connor could have traveled...I just need a little more time…" He trailed off in a mutter. Chris chuckled bitterly to himself.

"You just can't let it go, can you?" He asked shaking his head. "You're _losing_ yourself in this pointless obsession with finding Connor. He's gone. And he doesn't want to be found. And even if he did, he couldn't come back." Hank kept his back turned to his friend, his head hung low and defiant. "If you ask me, I think Connor would be better off if he was left hidden. God knows what will happen when the state police or feds get their hands on him….Hank he's a murd—"

"Hank." Another voice interrupted Chris before Hank could turn around in response to Chris's spiel. He turned to the other voice and found that Gavin was standing behind him with a leaf of notebook paper that appeared to have multiple scribbles covering it. "I need to talk to you." He looked at Chris with a slight smirk, "alone." Chris threw his hands up and stormed off, pointing a finger at Hank as he left.

"You owe me." He called before leaving the precinct. Hank turned his attention to Gavin, sighting heavily as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Ah well I figure it's been too long since you've given me shit, huh? Here to catch up Gavin?" But Gavin didn't respond.

Without a word, Gavin put his paper down face first on Hank's desk. It's was a collection of names that were circled or underlined in some sort of diagram like fashion. Hank looked at the list and raised an eyebrow.

"The hell is this…?" He muttered, "Ethan Singer, Stuart O'Connor, Samuel Mears, Mick Ketchner." He shook his head and handed the lost back to Gavin. "What is this? Your celebrity crushes?"

"What? No!" Gavin's face twisted into a scowl as he shoved the list back into Hank's desk and began pointing out the names. "I think they're connected to Connor."

"Connor?" Hank asked, " _You've_ been looking into cases involving Connor?" He scoffed and turned away, "What, did you grow a fucking conscience or something? Do you miss your android buddy?"

"No…" Gavin sneered sarcastically. "I wanna find that plastic son of a bitch, and I'm gonna beat the shit out of him." Hank looked up giving Gavin a funny look.

"What?" He asked throwing one arm up in a shrug before chuckling bitterly and shaking his head. "So you miss your punching bag then...Figures." Gavin sighed and rolled his eyes before getting down lower onto the table with his elbows. He lowered his voice so that it barely rose above a whisper.

"Listen, I know what the guys here are saying about your Real Doll here being a _fugitive_ or whatever." Hank couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Gavin's comment.

"We don't have _proof_ that Connor shot O'Sullivan."

"Yeah yeah." Gavin waved off Hank's response. "You say that like you don't already know what happened, but let's be honest here, Hank. Parker was one of us before he went of to join the suits. He was the closest thing some of these stupid bastards had to family." Hank could see the genuine pain in Gavin's face as he spoke of his old mentor. "And I don't give a shit _what_ Fowler has to say about it. Anyone here would have given that sniveling European assclown _so_ much more of a beat down than Connor did. Hell I'd bet my badge that Fowler would have done the same thing if he crossed paths with that cunt."

"Do you have a point to all this, Reed, or are you here to talk my fucking ear off about your revenge fantasies?"

"My _point_ is that we're gonna get your asshat of a partner back, and _I'm_ gonna kick his ass for letting that piece of shit off easy. Now shut up and look at the fucking list!" Hank put his hands up as if to feign surrender and looked back at Gavin's disheveled diagram. "Run those names through the terminal."

Following Gavin's instructions, Hank was able to find four different cases, three of which marked as homicide or assassination.

"Okay...so three homicides and one attempted murder. Each one in the past three months. Each one in different states. Each killed in different way. Strangled, sniped from a good distance, poisoned. Remind me again how this pertains to finding Connor?"

"Look closely." Gavin said, pointing his finger at the terminal. "The victimology, past offenses."

"The hell…? Alright, so all the bastards are criminals, big fucking deal."

"Not _just_ criminals, Anderson!" Gavin pointed out, " _Mercenaries_ , big-name contacts with the kinda ties they could get you into the damn White House with just a smile on their crooked, chapped-ass faces."

"So what, you think they have ties to O'Sullivan?"

"Positive." Gavin stated without hesitation. "In fact, the first guy, Stuart O'Connor, was at the Black Buc base the day of Connor's operation."

"So you think Connor's targeting anyone near to Scarver and his operation and what, killing them?" Hank pushed back Gavin's list. "What even makes you think these hits are related to Connor? These guys are mercenaries, they have a lot of enemies. Plus how would Connor even find these guys in the first place?"

"I don't know _how_ he's figuring them out, but look at the attempted murder case, Mick Ketchner."

"The poisoning? What about it? Seems random to me."

"The victim _survived_ Hank. And not only that, but there were several witnesses that could describe Ketchner's attacker, possibly even Ketchner himself when he comes to."

"Comes to..? When did this happen?"

"Just a few hours ago, in Maine. Waitress at the restaurant claims that our friend Ketchner here fired his gun at the man he was eating with. She swears that he bled blue." Hank felt his heart sink slightly with this discovery. If they could get a sample of thirium left at the crime scene, they could at least tie that attempted kill to him.

"So what, even if he can identify Connor, how does pinning these crimes on him help us _find_ him? Hell, it'll take half a day's drive to Maine anyways. There's no way Connor would stay in town any longer than he had to."

"I'm not trying to convict him. I'm saying, I think we can bait him."

" _Bait_ him? How?"

"The information about Ketchner's recovery hasn't been made public yet. If he finds out this guy is alive he may try to come back and finish the job."

"I-I mean maybe?" Hank stated doubtfully, "You really think he's dumb enough to go after the same hit twice?"

"If he's on a spree of revenge killings, the last thing he wants to leave one of those cock suckers alive." Hank have Gavin a doubting look.

"I don't know Gavin, I've been looking under every rock lately, but this is a bit of a long shot. _And_ it ties Connor to more than one victim doesn't even appear to have any ties with O'Sullivan."

"Well I hate to break it to you, old man, but long shots are all we've got right now. We can't help Connor's situation unless we _find_ him first, and this is the best way to ensure we CAN find him." Hank just shook his head again and exhaled slowly.

"So...Maine, huh?"

* * *

Hank and Gavin arrived at Saint Joseph's Community Hospital in Maine early the next morning, both groggy and exhausted from the night of driving. Hank showed his badge to the receptionist at the front desk and asked for Mick Ketchner's room number.

The two detectives were led up to a room about three stories up where a man with dark hair and a scruffy beard was laying relaxed in the hospital bed, browsing the daytime television channels. He glanced at the two detectives only a moment before turning back to his show.

"Hello, there gentlemen. How can I assist you blokes?" Hank flashed his police badge at the man before pulling out his wallet. The man sighed heavily and sat back in his bed.

"Sorry mates but I've talked to the police at least a dozen times today. Can't you just leave me be?" Hank opened up his wallet ignoring the man's comments. Gavin was staring daggers at the man.

"Listen here dirtbag, if you don't think we know what you-"

"Easy Gavin," Hank stopped him, pulling a photo from his wallet and handing it to the man. "Is this the guy who attacked you at the restaurant." Ketchner's brow furrowed as he stared at a photo of Hank and his partner.

"I didn't know the fellow was an android." He began, handing the picture back. "That's definitely him though. He one of _your_ men?"

"You could say that…" Hank muttered, "You said you didn't know he was an android. Did he remove his L.E.D.?"

"Or hiding it." Ketchner stated, "I only saw the guy for a few minutes."

"What about when you shot him? Did you see him bleed." Ketchner shook his head.

"I was out before I saw anything. Not even sure I remember shooting him."

"So why were you even meeting with him?" Ketchner's glance shifted sideways as his eyes darted to the left.

"He wanted to talk about some...er...private business."

"Oh yeah?" Hank asked suspiciously, throwing his eyebrow up. "What _kind_ of business, Mr. Ketchner."

"Like I said," Ketchner started again, squaring his shoulders, "It is _private_ business and it doesn't concern you or anyone else's. Especially a bunch of pigs from _Michigan_. Don't think I didn't see that badge of yo-"

"Listen here asshole," Hank began nonchalantly, "Don't think we don't know exactly why you were targeted in the first place. Now you can either help us out, or we can turn over the evidence we have of your association with escaped convict Cyrus O'Sullivan over to the cops that do have jurisdiction here. I don't really have a preference. Your choice."

Gavin was simply watched Hank's plan unfold silently, slightly confused at how calmly he handled his on the spot interrogation. He knew damn well that Hank was bluffing about having any real proof, and the older detective knew it too. Hank watched closely as Ketchner battled in his head for a moment before giving in.

"Alright, fuck's bloody sake…" He muttered under his breath, "Before we met, he was offering a price to bust a buddy of his out of prison. Course seeing as that was a ruse to get me out, I don't know how that concerns you."

"Bust out of prison, eh?" Hank wondered aloud, making his final connection with Ketchner that he needed, "You mean like how you busted O'Sullivan out of the slammer yeah?"

"Yes, exactly. Just another deal." He sighed heavily, not noting the smirk on the detective's face, "I swear, if I ever see that cheeky plastic bastard again-" He was cut off by a few Maine police officers who grabbed his arms and cuffed them behind his back.

"You ain't gonna do _shit_." Hank laughed to himself as Ketchner was forced out of his bed and taken out into the hall. "That confession was all we really needed, pal.

"Hey! What the hell?"

"You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one-" One of the cops began reading Ketchner his rights.

"By the way, talked to the doc Mickey! She says you're good for discharge!"

"You bastard! You'll fucking burn for this!"

"That's for getting me shot! Enjoy prison you slimey bitch!" Hank whistled at one of the police officers who turned around suddenly. "Hey, make sure it gets through to the media about Ketchner being alive, maybe mention the hotel he was staying at. Tell them to really sell it about his whole 'miraculous recovery' thing!"

* * *

As the cops left, the two Detroit detectives walked back out to Gavin's car, the hotel room key in hand. Gavin had hardly said a word to Hank since Ketchner was taken in, but as they walked in the courtyard outside of the hospital, the man spoke up.

"Hey, uh that wasn't too bad of an interrogation for an old assclown like you." He was looking down at the ground, shuffling his feet. "You knew damn fucking well we couldn't pin anything on Ketchner, but you bluffed it anyways." Hank chuckled bitterly.

"Hate to break it to you kid, but I've been doing this shit for most of your life. You start to figure out what you're doing after a decade or two of this."

"Yeah well…" Gavin stammered, "All I'm saying is that you didn't completely suck out there, okay? Jesus…" Hank gave Gavin an amused look and chuckled at him. "What?!"

"Nothing.." Hank laughed, "Just a little weird actually being _partnered_ with you for once, you know?"

"Yeah well don't expect it to happen again. I don't need an elderly piece of shit like you slowing me down in the field."

"Oh yeah?" Hank dared, "Try to keep up with _me_ next time we're in the field together." Gavin scoffed as they reached his car, unlocking his front door. "Come on." Hank began, "Let's go catch ourselves an android."


	18. Our Own Devils

"Our Own Devils"

Connor stayed and squatted in an old abandoned factory for the night, hoping to stay low for a bit before leaving down. He was sitting up in the rafters, his back against a support beam as his legs hung absently off of it.

He had entered a light standby mode, still remaining vigilant in the instance of being found out. He couldn't help but feel weary and heavy after these past few months of vigilante work.

He never tried to admit it to himself, but he missed Hank. He missed his dog. And yet after all this time seeking out associates of Scarver, Connor felt no different, no safer or better after wiping out the men. He just felt alone. He was grabbing absentmindedly at his abdomen, still sore despite the work his healing program was initiating to heal himself. He groaned lightly as he shifted positions. He felt almost sick? If an android _could_ feel sick.

Across from him, the image of Scarver was watching him, still apparently pissed off. He was tapping the rafters with his fingers, creating an irritatingly monotonous tone in the back of the android's head. He grew irritable but said nothing.

 _Connor…_ The man called to the android. Connor did his best to appear unmoved. _Connor I know you can hear me_.

" _Get out of my head…"_ Connor thought to himself.

 _You know I can hear that too. Come now lad, there's no point in ignoring me… I am always with you._

When Connor finally opened his eyes, the apparition was directly in front of him. Startled, Connor cried out and fell backwards from the rafters, smashing his scull against a platform of decaying wood. He squeezed his eyes shut as alarms flashed and sounded through his visual and audio sensors, causing him to groan. He could hear the guttural chuckles of the man echoing through his skull, through when he opened his eyes, he couldn't see him.

Connor laid back again against the floor, throwing his arm over his eyes and exhaling softly as he let go of a tense sigh that had been slowly building over the past few hours alone with his strange specter. This...whatever it was of Scarver, it was irritating beyond no end, but not quite enough to drive the stoic android _mad._ Though in his mind, Connor expressed a silent concern for his mental state. He had never heard of an android having hallucinations or psychological breaks in reality. Yes, he had androids that had suffered certain neurological damage but never enough to cause interactive hallucinations.

Perhaps it could be trauma or stress causing this mental slip. He needed time to enter an uninterrupted stasis, time to recalibrate his systems, but every time he closed his eyes—

 _Camptown ladies sing a song, doo dah, doo dah._

This again..

 _Camptown racetrack five miles long, oh doo dah day_.

Connor's L.E.D. flickered to yellow as he expressed silent annoyance. It was always something new, yet painfully uncreative.

 _You really think SLEEP is going to run me off, Connor?_ Scarver asked through the android's mind. _Come now lad, you have to give me more credit than that._

 _He's gonna run all night_

 _gonna run all day._

He continued to sing his own rendition of the classic song as he circled the detective.

 _I bet my money on the washed up cop._

 _But Somebody's betting on Hank._

Connor's eyes fluttered open as he flung his hand from his face and sat up from the floor.

"What do you mean?" Connor interjected, glaring at the pacing Scarver. The man's expression changed almost immediately to a surprised joy.

 _Ah! The boy speaks!_ He exclaimed, much to Connor's chagrin. _Honestly, Connor, you haven't considered that Hank is out there looking for you?_

"Hank is in a coma." Connor stated with a flat tone in his voice. He's L.E.D. switched red for a moment before returning to a normal blue color. "The _police_ will be looking for me no doubt.." he admitted quietly.

 _Especially since that asswipe of a Brit survived the attack._

Connor sat up straighter, his L.E.D. flashing to red for a moment as his expression grew noticeably concerned.

"He _what_?" How do you know this?"

 _Police scanner. You tuned it out while brooding, but I thought you would want to know._ Scarver gave Connor a suggestive look as the android felt his face go pale.

 _Guess the paramedics got to the slimy bastard too soon. It's a shame._

Connor put his head in his hands and bowed his head low to the ground.

"Dammit!" He yelled , slamming a clenched fist against the rotting boards of the floor. "He's seen my face, my blood!" He stood quickly from the floor and gathered his things, wincing as he strained his sore abdomen. "I can't stay here." he announced to the ghost. "If he's identified me then I don't have much time to escape this town, let alone the subtlety."

 _Escape?_ Scarver asked curiously. _No no no, Connor. If he's seen your face then you need to finish the job!_

"Finish the job?" Connor asked in disbelief, a deep scowl forming over the android's stoic face. "No. I'm done with your manipulative little plan, _and_ your god forsaken list."

 _This isn't ABOUT the list anymore, lad. Hell, this isn't even about my bloody plan. This is about not getting yourself CAUGHT._

"I can't hide forever. Odds are, SOMEONE has made the connection between my assassinations already." Connor chucked bitterly, a look of distress giving up his confidence. "I'm not just _missing_. I am a criminal, a _fugitive_ of the law." He looked away for a moment, his voice growing low. "I am a murderer… It is far too late for me to try and cover my tracks…"

 _If they find you, Connor, they will TEAR you apart, miserable little scrap by scrap. They will KILL you._

"And…?" Connor asked, his face growing miserable and heavy laden with a loss of hope. "What kind of life did I have before? What do I have to go back to..? I've lost my job...I can never go home. I can't see my dog…"

Connor felt his fists clenching.

"Hank is…" Connor stopped himself, swallowing a lump of pain that was growing in his tightly closing throat. He turned his attention back to Scarver who was looking at him with a disinterested and apathetic stare.

"My life is forfeit… It was the moment I chose revenge over Hank… over _everything_ …"

Connor was absently putting his hand in his pocket, searching for the quarter he always kept with him, but he knew that it was never there. He had left it next to his badge when he left the hospital. He never really knew why.

"… I could have stayed…" he whispered to himself. "I could have stayed in the hospital...at Hank's side...I could have _been_ there for him like I always promised I would…" his L.E.D was growing red, changing to yellow as he took deeper breaths. "But I chose _this_." He stressed before turning his attention to Scarver again. "I chose YOU." Scarver smiled almost maliciously. "I let you take everything…and for what?

 _To protect Hank, wasn't that the deal?_

"To protect Hank?" Connor asked with disgust in his voice. "I LEFT Hank! This wasn't about Hank, this was NEVER about Hank! Or Agent Jareau! Or _any_ of the androids that you destroyed and sold away!"

 _Then what?_ Scarver asked, crossing his arms, unamused. _WHAT was this really about?_

"IT WAS ABOUT _ME_!" Connor cried out, closing his eyes and shouting at the top of his lungs. He heard the room ringing slightly. His breath was short as he felt the entire room quiet at his voice. He could feel the edges of his eyes stinging with tears. He tried to swallow back his tears, refusing to let this specter watch him cry. This was all part of his plan, to continue to torment Connor even after his death. Or rather, let Connor torment himself.

"This was always about me…" he admitted weakly, "I couldn't protect Parker… I couldn't protect Hank… And it was so much easier to assume that killing you would make this _guilt_ just…FINALLY settle...but it didn't...knowing that I can't go home...that I can't see Hank again...this is worse…"

The specter was quiet for a moment before turning his back on the android and grabbing something from the floor. He came back to Connor, presenting him with the object. His handgun, solid black, the shine slightly dulled from months of use without any care or cleaning. Connor could see the faint reflection of his red L.E.D. blurred in the faint, scratched coat of paint on the gun.

 _Then go._ Scarver stated flatly. _And either surrender…_ He shoved the firearm into Connor's hands, the android fumbling with the gun slightly as he struggled to keep his balance. _Or FINISH what you started._

Connor watched Scarver turn and leave the room, his mind still in turmoil and confusion as the man disappeared into the dimly lit hallway.

Connor started down at the gun that sat dull in his hands. His hands tightened around the body of his weapon, his heart and stomach twisting as he pondered his options.

He could give up.

He could finish his mission.

Either way, Connor knew that one thing was certain for him.

This was the end.

* * *

Hank sat in the passenger seat of Gavin's car, shifting his position in discomfort . The two detectives were silent with the car, save the alternative rock that played softly from Gavin's speakers.

Hank has his elbow resting on the passenger door, his chin resting in his hand as he watched the city sites blur together as the car passed through them.

His free hand was in his pocket, fumbling with something he had kept since he found it on the table in his hospital room. He subconsciously pulled the American quarter from his pocket and began slipping it through his fingers, fidgeting with it and dragging his fingers along the ridged edge of the coin.

Gavin looked over at Hank, taking his eyes from the road for a moment. His face grew with a look of irritation and annoyance as he spotted the glint of the coin from beneath Hank's fingers.

"Really?" He sighed, putting his glance back on the road and then back to Hank. "You too with that stupid fucking thing?" He scoffed with disbelief. "Your Real Doll is starting to rub off on you." He looked to Hank's face, expecting a reaction of some type. A snarky remark, a glare, maybe even some kind of lecture. But Hank was silent and his face was still, not even seeming to notice Gavin's remarks.

"G-Get it?" He edged Hank on nervously. "I'm calling you gay." Nothing. "I'm accusing you of _fucking_ your partner…" Gavin could feel himself blushing slightly with embarrassment. "Because he's...a robot?"

" _Stop talking, you moron."_ Gavin heard himself say in his head. " _Something's wrong."_

Gavin sighed, his face growing with a solemn frown.

"Okay, I'll bite." He stated, "What? What the hell's wrong with you?"

"You're the one with all the jokes." Hank said with little inflection in his voice. "I haven't said anything."

"Yeah." Gavin hissed. "That's why I'm asking." He looked back to the road, shifting his position slightly. "Is it seeing Connor again? Are you nervous or some pussy shit like that?"

"It's been three months, Reed." Hank said, a somber tone growing in his throat. "Who wouldn't be..?"

The two detectives said nothing for a moment until Hank continued.

"Why did you bring your connection to me?" He asked bluntly, lifting his head from against his hand. "Why not Fowler or some other cop? Connor is a criminal. You could have gotten me kicked from the case and kept yourself out of it. Hell, I dragged you to fucking _Maine_ , Gavin. Why did you do it?" Gavin sighed, his eyes darting slightly.

"Connor crossed state lines. Makes it free game for the feds." Hank could tell something was off with the way he was speaking. "And I like Perkins and his gang about as much as anyone else."

"No…" Hank sighed, "That's not all of it is it?" He looked at Gavin, watching the young sergeant's face flush slightly. "You knew that the feds would hunt Connor down like an rabid animal if they knew the connection. _Especially_ Perkins." He scoffed slightly. "This isn't about bringing Connor in." He stated, realizing Gavin's full intentions. "You want me to give him a chance to escape...You're just letting me see him again so I stop obsessing. Is that right on the head? Huh, Gav? You don't want Connor to be found either, _do_ you?"

Gavin lowered his head slightly and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling softly.

"Nobody does Hank…" Gavin admitted. "Everyone at the precinct has turned a blind eye to anything that could possibly be related to Connor...keeping EVERYTHING about Connor away from you...Parker was one of us, and Connor took out the bastard that popped a cap in him. And...believe it or not, Connor is one of us too…" Gavin looked up again at the road, speeding up. "We have to protect our own Hank...and if that means letting Connor stay missing then that's that."

"I can't fucking believe this." Hank threw his hands in the air, growing angry at the revelation of his coworker's intentions.

"You won't stop looking for Connor until you see him again, Hank. I know that, even if the other cops want to ignore it. But if you want Connor to stay safe, alive, _free_ then you HAVE to let him go...you NEED to let him go...even if it hurts."

"Oh yeah?" Hank challenged, his eyes narrowing. "Who are you to decide what Connor NEEDS? I'm not losing him too…"

"Hello? Earth to shit-for-brains! Hank, if you try to bring him in, he will be tried and put away, o-or fucking decommissioned or something! Do you want that? Do you want him arrested or _killed?"_

Hank looked away from Gavin. He knew that he had a point, but Hank was still stubborn. He couldn't just give up on Connor. Or leave him alone again

"You could help him get out of the country, disguise himself. Hell, I'd even give him some money of mine. But he can't stay here. His career as a Detroit detective is over, but that doesn't mean his life should be…"

Hank said nothing, but rather confined to stare soberly out the car window. He couldn't even begin to predict how this encounter would play out. He'd ran it through his head at least 50 times since the drive to Maine. It just all seemed so fake.

When Hank looked back over to Gavin, the detective's eyes were off the road and focused on his cell phone. He seemed to be reading something.

"Hey! Hey! What the hell?! Put that down!" Hank snatched the phone from Gavin, startling the young detective and causing him to swerve slightly into the other lane.

"Wha—FUCK!" Gavin exclaimed as he overcorrected, nearly steering the car into a ditch on their side of the road. He recovered from his hyperventilation after pulling off to the side of the road. He looked to Hank with a very distressed and angry expression. "ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?"

"What me?" Hank argued, "YOU were the one trying to get us killed! The fuck were you even looking at?" Gavin pointed to his phone, still struggling to control his breathing.

"S-Something that might have just changed my mind." He said shakily. "Maine police officers recovered something from Connor's motel room."

"A flash drive?" Hank asked, "or...hit list?"

"It's more than that…" Gavin exhaled, his face now gleaming with some smug hope. "I think we can use this is save Connor."

* * *

Connor had arrived at Ketchner's house later that day, trying to remain as cautious as possible, his gun drawn and aimed at the cracked pavement below his feet. He had expected the area to be more carefully guarded, or at least have some police escorts in view.

However, Connor couldn't even see a cop car anywhere near the property. It was far too suspicious and the android knew he had to keep his guard up. The house was much older than most in the city and didn't seem to have an encrypted security system. Connor was able to enter the system and disable it quickly and without much trouble. This was also disturbing to him. A hired mercenary who specialized in breaking people out of high security areas, had a rather low tech security system himself.

 _You realize this is a trap yes?_

"I can tell.." Connor whispered grimly as he started to pick the deadbolt on the heavy wooden door. "What other choice do I have? Run?" He sighed and turned back to the lock. "I've been running for far too long…" he grimaced as the bolt finally turned. Connor felt himself cringe as the door squealed open.

 _So much for a stealthy advantage._

"Shut up.."

Connor slipped into the house as quietly as he could, making sure the door was silent as he let it shut behind him. He checked the sitting room which was neatly organized like a picture from a catalogue.

 _Hm...we thinking fake? Police safe house?_

Connor didn't reply, but rather continued to creep into the kitchen and the adjoined dining room. Empty as well with perfectly aligned furniture and appliances. Out of curiosity, Connor checked the refrigerator.

Lukewarm and empty. It wasn't even stocked with non perishables. It was clear that this was a false house.

Although expected, Connor still felt his heart sink and his stomach turn. This was it wasn't it? This was the end.

 _You can still turn back. Try to live a seemingly normal life. Continue with the list even...but turning yourself in willingly? This is suicide...which is stupid even for a piece of plastic like you._

Connor knew that Scarver, despite being a incorporeal voice at this time, had a point to make. He could still run. He could go out shooting. He could be arrested or torn apart. Running seemed so sensible. Preserving his own life was only...human.

But he wasn't human.

He wasn't even an android...not anymore.

He was just a monster.

Making his decision, Connor continued up the stairs to see what laid in wait for him in the darkness.

There were three doors at the top of the stairs. One, which was wide open, seemed to lead to a bathroom and adjacent to it was a smaller door, which seemed to be a closet of some type. Connor crept to the only door left, which he assumed would be a bedroom.

His suspicions were confirmed as he opened the door. The room smelled almost musty and untouched while the bed was empty and undisturbed.

However, there was a single recliner that sat across from a big window. The recliner was turned away from Connor, and the figure in the chair was silent and unmoved by the sound of the door opening. He seemed to be expecting Connor.

Connor hesitantly brought his firearm up from his side and trailed it on the figure's head, creeping up slowly behind him.

"K-Ketchner.." Connor's voice was shaky and uncertain. He barely knew it as his own. He watched the figure noticeably flinch at the sound of Connor's voice.

Something wasn't right...this wasn't Ketchner..

"Whoever you are.." he corrected himself. "Stand up...s-slowly."

The man in the recliner put his hands against the arms of the chair to push himself up. He was trembling almost as much as Connor was. Connor could barely make out the shapes of the man in the dark. In fact, all he could see was his hair, pulled back into a stringy ponytail.

He stood to his feet and moved strands of hair out of his face and over his head. Then he sighed, finally turning to face the android. The light from Connor's L.E.D. lit up the man's face yellow, and then in a flash, blood red. Connor froze dead in his tracks as he felt his legs begin to give in.

This wasn't real.

Just another hallucination like Scarver.

He scanned the face of the man, running a true and unbiased analysis.

LIEUTENANT HANK ANDERSON

"H-hey kid…" Hank's voice was scratchy and broken, full of exhaustion and pain. "Long time no see huh?"

Connor was silent for a moment, his L.E.D. rapidly changing from yellow to red.

STRESS 85%

 _Well I wasn't expecting that._

"H-ha…" Connor couldn't steady his voice enough to even call out to his friend. He wasn't sure if he wanted to embrace the detective or… or what? Run? Attack him? Collapse? "You...you're...alive. And...awake?"

Hank nodded somberly, stepping out from the chair and standing only steps away from his old partner. He brought his hand up and pointed at Connor's gun which was now in line with his chest.

"You gonna shoot me or what?" He retorted slightly trying to make light of the grim situation.

 _No I'm really curious Connor, ARE you?_

Connor, now noticing his gun trailed on his partner, lowered it quite frantically.

"N-no...I..no." He swallowed his fear but didn't holster his gun just yet. "I…" He stammered trying to find the right words to say. "T-they...they sent you?"

"N-no, Connor...No one sent me...G-Gavin actually picked up on your trail...thought we could meet you in Maine… I'm...I'm not here on a case. I just needed to see you again."

"W-why…?" Connor asked quietly, "y-you want me to go home with you?"

"Connor, I just think—"

"Hank, I CAN'T ever go home." He interjected suddenly. "I chose to pursue, _revenge_ over my life. Over my family. So I gave up the right to go home a long time ago."

"Connor we can get past that stuff. All that court business is just technical. We can—"

"Can what, Hank? Call it self defense and then just sweep the rest of the evidence that y-you and —fucking—d-detective _Reed_ fathered? Is THAT how you deal out justice now, Hank? Is it YOUR choice who gets punished and who gets pardoned? I AM A MURDERER. You don't see anything wrong with that?"

"What you did, anyone would have and you know that,Connor!"

"No!" Connor yelled at the top of his voice. "No anyone I-in my position would have STOPPED after Scarver was dead. You just don't want to admit that because you don't want me to pay for my crimes. You want to play the courts with circumstantial bullshit! Because you're too selfish to realize that YOUR friends are NOT above the law! You just don't want to be alone again!"

"HEY! I'm not the one who left, Connor!" Hank rebutted, raising his voice. "You're calling ME selfish! You ran off when I NEEDED YOU!"

"I did this BECAUSE I COULDN'T KEEP YOU SAFE!"

"I didn't need you to keep me safe! I didn't need you to go around shooting fucking criminals and British douchebags!" Hank's voice was growing hoarse and strained, breaking slightly. "I needed you there when I was alone in the hospital! I needed you in the month I spent on leave, alone at the house while recovering! I needed you back at the precinct, solving cases like we always fucking do when everything has gone to shit! I needed you in DETROIT, Connor! Not MAINE!"

 _He's going for the gun_

Connor jerker his head, watching as Hank was indeed fumbling slowly in his pockets for something. Connor felt his hands tighten around his own gun.

"Y-you...for once in your fucking life...need to trust me, Connor.."

 _Like a man putting down his rabid puppy._

"S-shut up." Connor hissed under his breath, turning his head to the corner where Scarver was sitting.

STRESS 90%

Surprised, Hank jerked his head back to the corner to see who Connor was talking to. But there was no one there.

' _I ought to of shot that dog myself, George.'_

Scarver spoke in a deep American accent.

' _Shouldn't of let no stranger shoot my dog.'_

"Shut the hell up!" Connor cried at the top of his lungs, frantically aiming his gun to the corner of the room.

STRESS 95%

Hank jumped back at Connor's sudden movement of his weapon.

"Woah woah! Connor calm down! What the hell is wrong with you?!" But Connor wasn't looking at Hank, but the corner of the room.

 _Oh yes, let's see how this goes, lad. I'm curious myself. I wonder if I can feel the bullet before you shoot the wall._

"JUST LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!"

"Connor…" Hank looked at the android with horrified pity. "Are...are you seeing him?"

 _I mean why shouldn't he do it Connor? Why shouldn't he shoot you dead..? You've killed so many people without trial...why.. you're no better than the things you hunt._

"H-how did you..?"

Connor didn't look up from where the apparition was standing.

"He...he's always…" Connor felt his voice breaking.

 _But you know he won't...he'll try to bring you back home to Detroit where you'll stand trial and be found guilty by all stances of the law._

STRESS 97%

"I...I'm losing my mind…"

 _So why not save the old detective the trouble of having watch his dear old partner rot in a cell for the next 160 years or so huh?_

"E-ever since…"

Scarver began to approach Connor.

 _Or having to shoot you himself...what would that do to the poor old man…? He'd probably go right home and shoot himself._

He stood in front of Connor, putting his hands on the barrel of Connor's gun.

STRESS 99%

"E-ever since I shot him…"

 _Why not save him the trouble?_

He lifted the gun up, Connor's grip on the gun still solid, and twisted it slightly so that the barrel was facing the android

"Connor, wait! Son, what the fuck are you doing?!" Hank yelled, horrified.

 _You brought this on yourself Connor, so open up._

"H-Hank…" He cried his friends name in fear as tears were slipping heavily from the android's eyes. He struggled to keep his voice steady. He wanted to cry for help but the words wouldn't leave his mouth.

 _Let's finish what you started._

"H-Hank I'm s-so sorry." Connor's voice broke to nothing but a faint and tearful whisper.

The android opened his mouth as the cold feel of the metal barrel brushed against his lips.

"CONNOR! Stop for gods fucking sake! It's not real! It's a fucking virus!"

Connor hesitated for a moment as is index finger rested softly against the trigger.

Hank felt his own breaths deep in his throat as he tried to prevent himself from breaking down as well.

Connor pulled the gun from his mouth, only enough so that he could speak.

"A..a virus..?"

"The flash d-drive Connor. With Scarver's hit l-list. Maine police officers ran the file and f-found it was a trojan…"

"I...I don't…"

"W-when you downloaded the f-file to your hard drive...y-you..you exposed yourself to Scarver's dangerous malware…" Hank cautiously reached out his hand to grab Connor's shoulder, moving slowly as not to startle him. "The technicians said that the virus could mess with perception and judgement...but when you started talking to the f-fucking wall I…" With the other hand, the detective carefully wrapped his hand around Connor's wrist, moving his arm away from his face.

He tried to look at Connor but the android couldn't seem to meet his eyes, not for lack of trying. Hank suddenly felt slight tension in Connor's wrist as he attempted to move the gun forward.

"Hey.." Hank spoke firmly, but gentle as he took his hand from his partner's shoulder and laid it on the gun. "It's not real son, okay?"

Connor looked at Hank, the panic in his eyes beginning to dwindle as Hank's news passed through his mind.

"You can let go….It's okay to let go." Hesitantly, Connor loosened his grip on the firearm, allowing Hank to take it from his hand.

"Good...Good kid.." Hank breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the gun reached his fingers, slipping into his own holster which was hidden behind his jacket. As the gun left his hands, Connor felt his last bit of remaining strength leave as his legs trembled and gave out beneath him.

"Oh SHIT- Hold on! Easy now." Hank panicked as he struggled to keep the android from crashing to the floor, wrapping his arms around his body and lowering himself and Connor slowly onto the floor.

"I got you, kid." He kept the android tightly in his arms, slipping his hand behind his head and rubbing his hair slowly. Though still feeling the silent horror and shock of what had gone down, Connor felt as if some sort of burden had been lifted. He trembled violently as he wrapped his own arms around the police Lieutenant.

"I...I..I thought...y-you were gone…" Connor realized just how truly distressed and upset he had been over this as his voice broke down into small, incoherent sobs.

"Yeah..?" Hank asked gently, "Well tough luck kiddo...Killing me ain't that easy. I can't really leave now, huh? God knows the shit you've pulled when I'm not around to watch you."

"Oh m-my God…" Connor continued. "Hank what the hell have I done…? W-what the f-fuck did I d-do…? I-I...I'm a m-monster…"

"Hey…" Hank tried to feign hopefulness in his tone of voice. "Don't worry, son...We're gonna fix this, okay? Everything's gonna be okay. You're gonna come home and everything is going to be fine okay?" His attempts failed.

"I'm so sorry I l-left…" He sobbed quietly, "I let him take EVERYTHING….G-god Hank I w-was just so angry...I was so h-hurt and afraid of being alone I…"

"Shh…" Hank soothed quietly. "Don't worry about that right now…Just rest, okay…?"

"Everything is going to be okay."

 **Author's Note:**

* * *

This is the official end to the Devil's arc as I'm calling it, though of course the events will still be mentioned in later chapters. This was one of the more exertive chapters since "A Thin Line" and I've absolutely loved exploring the tropes and playing around with different character dynamics. I hope you've enjoyed this as the Scarver storyline has been one of the biggest in the story so far! It's nice to watch it finally come full circle.

Thank you guys so much for your love and support of NJPD. It's been really inspiring and every word pushes me further to pursue improving my skills and style. You guys are the best.

See you next chapter!


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